Stallions Of The West
by Lordofslytherin692
Summary: For nearly three centuries, the Alleryons of Starfyre Hall have ruled The north-west coast of the Westerlands. During this time, they have sworn loyal fealty to House Targaryen and House Lannister. Now the dragons are gone from Westeros, save one. Will the western Stallion remain loyal to the Baratheons who hate them? Or will a new family rise to prominence in the game of thrones?
1. Chapter 1

1 – Starfyre Hall

John Alleryon, head of his house and lord of Starfyre hall sat in his solar with his wife, Ceryse, and her father, his liege lord, Tywin Lannister, lord of nearby Casterly Rock, and Warden of the west, along with other titles. Lannister was speaking now. They were discussing the current state of the realm, and what it would mean for their houses and their family.

"The crown is millions of dragons in debt to both the Westerlands and to the Iron Bank. To confound issues, the King's hand, Jon Arryn, is dead. Robert and his court ride north. Baratheon will ask your brother's old friend Stark to take the office."

The two Alleryons glanced at one another. Robert appointing Ned as his new hand would only widen the divide between the Royal couple. It was no secret that Cersei Lannister, Ceryse's younger sister, despised the Starks, and all they represented. Ceryse knew that her sister's loathing would be better placed with her royal husband. Cersei had once revealed to her what had occurred upon her wedding knight. Upon the hour of their bedding, Robert, drunk already had whispered sweetly in her ear The one name the younger Lannister sister never wanted to hear again.

Lyanna.

Lyanna Stark was the sister of Eddard Stark, current warden of the north, and Baratheon's best friend. And, she had been betrothed to Robert. That had all changed after her mysterious death in Dorne, allegedly after being raped by her supposed kidnapper, her lord husband's relative, prince Rhaegar Targaryen. For Ceryse, that didn't add up. The tales of the intelligent, good-natured, noble prince of Dragonstone, her former Betrothed, did not match up with the story of the kidnapper and rapist Stark and his supporters believed and spread. And, although she would never say this to him out loud, she would rather be kidnapped then marry her sister's husband. Ceryse suspected that Lyanna stark had been of the same mind.

Tywin Lannister waited for the lord and lady before him to make their reply. It was his daughter who voiced the couple's thoughts. "If Stark accepts the office, it will only serve to widen the gaping divides at court, father". The warden of the west nodded at his eldest child. His own thoughts had been running in the same direction as hers. Turning around to address his the other occupant in the room, he spoke to his Grandson.

"What do you make of these matters, Daeron?" Tywin Lannister had a great deal of respect for the young man before him, respect that man three times his ten-and-six name days could not boast of. The lad was a gifted warrior, but was also a keen scholar, loved reading, and was fiercely intelligent. Glancing at his parents for a moment, Daeron Alleryon ran three fingers through the shoulder length silver hair he shared with his foster-sister and all the members of his father's house, bar one, before turning to regard his grandfather. The boy sighed slightly. A habit he had picked up on recently.

"The appointment of Lord Stark will create problems, no doubt. Yours may be the strongest house, but Stark has no love of our family. Soon enough, Lannisters and other Westermen will be looked over for royal offices. The king's own derision for anything remotely Lannister OR Targaryen is also no secret. If not for the fact that my aunt is queen, our houses would have fallen from Royal favour the day Robert Baratheon took the Iron Throne". The young man stopped speaking, leaning back with his hand on his sword. He poured himself a drink of water from a nearby jug. John smiled proudly at his son and heir's well-thought out response. Tywin nodded at the young man. He was, of course, correct. Robert hated the Lannisters. But Daeron's response proved one thing. It proved he was thinking ahead. Robert Baratheon made no secret of the fact that he despised both sides of Daerom's family tree. Daeron's foresight was vital as, as he well knew, he would one day rule as both lord of Starfyre hall and Casterly Rock. Tywin had no intention of leaving the Rock to his despised youngest son, and no other male heir existed besides his brothers. Daeron was the best choice of heir. The boy knew all this, and knew that Robert would one day find himself owing a great deal of wealth to a man he despised more than any other Lannister, simply for who he was descended from on his father's side. "And, how would you counsel us on this matter, son?" John inquired of his son. The boy glanced at Tywin before turning to look his father in the eye.

"A subtle show of strength. Since the Greyjoy rebellion, Western forces have been mostly forgotten by the crown. Now Robert and his court march north. We should send a Lannister Procession to meet them before they get there. It is time we should remind his grace that the Starks are not the only powerful house in Westeros besides his own. Those in the room nodded their approval at his words, his parents recognising that the young knight had become a man. Tywin turned to his heir. The old man agreed to send a procession, telling the knight that he would lead it in his lord grandfather's stead, as the official heir to the lands of the west.

Tywin strode from the solar, heading for the stables. He would return to his own seat to prepare the western forces to march. John Alleryon glanced at his wife and their heir.

"Daeron, escort your mother to the dining hall so she might break her fast with your younger siblings, then fetch your older sisters, as well as your foster-sister. The three of them will travel with you to Winterfell".The young knight nodded, before taking his mother's arm, and leading escorting her ceremoniously from his father's solar.

Ceryse

Ceryse smiled at her eldest as he walked with her through the halls. He, of all four of her children was the most to look like his famous ancestor, Aegon the first. His Blonde hair ran to his neck, as Aegon's was said to have done. Intelligent, lilac eyes gazed intently before them as they walked. Her son rarely spoke, but it did not matter. The silence was comfortable for both of them. Like his Targaryen forbears, Daeron had high cheek bones, and a proud, regal baring. He looked like a king or dragon lord of old, and he had the manner of one as well. Of all her four children, her oldest had taken after his father's family the most. His younger brother,Lucarion had the looks, but the temperament of her family, and her green eyes. His twin sisters, the youngest, were both Lannisters through and through. Golden hair, Green eyes and with her sister's respect for wealth and power. Fortunately, they were kind, unlike Cersei. Daeron, her oldest, would always be her favourite. But, he was an enigma to her. Of course, she knew most of his quirks. Knew he despised injustice. Knew he loved her and his sisters, and respected his father and hers, yet despised most of the rest of his Alleryon relatives, although (in most cases), he hid it well. She knew her son was a gifted warrior. A fine archer and gifted swordsman, like the oldest of her brothers. Understood he loved books, but not where that love came from, if not Tyrion, who he rarely saw.

And yet, despite his many fine qualities, her son had never had any women in his life. She knew he liked women; she had seen him glance twice at many beautiful maidens. And yet, he had made no efforts towards romance. Deep down, Ceryse knew her fears were unfounded. He had plenty of time for that. His father had ruled their lands long and wisely, and would continue to do so for years to come. There was no need for Daeron to wed at this time. All the same, with all his strange habits and other factors about him, she understood why many in the Westerlands said he was just as much an enigma as Aegon the Conqueror, his famous namesake. Her son was proud, and a skilled swordsman and archer. He was however, hopeless with a spear. This amused the Starfyre Sea Wardens and Starfyre Hall Guardians to no end. The Wardens and the Guardians were her husband's elite forces. The Wardens had been created two and a half centuries ago, to guard the coasts against iron born raiders. The wardens fought in tight ranks, trained with both spear and bow. They wore gray, white and blue armour and helms, with white shields engraved with the symbols of the houses they served. These included House Alleryon and their Bannermen. The guardians were of a more recent vintage. They had been founded when her lord husband, impressed by their performance on a visit to Essos, purchased and freed two thousand unsullied and shipped them back to fight for him in Westeros. More had since joined their ranks; Criminals. Rapists, murderers, thieves. All had been gelded and trained ruthlessly. Though not as skilled as their unsullied counterparts, these so-called 'Westerosi unsullied' had proven themselves able in the Greyjoy rebellion. John said they would prove to be especially effective against cavalry units. They were trained to fight with spears and shields, to create a thicket of spears and shields for an enemy force to fall upon. Her husband and father believed these forces would give the west a distinct advantage in any conflict. She preyed that Daeron and her other children never found themselves in such a conflict. She had lived through two. Both had been terrifying.

Ceryse sighed as she recalled the horrific events of the Greyjoy rebellion. She and the children had been moved to Casterly Rock to escape the potential attack on Starfyre Hall, as one of the closest settlements in the Westerlands to the Iron Islands. One night, with John and father away fighting in the Islands, she had been roused from her slumber by the tolling of the warning bells. Listening for a moment she had sat up. She slipped from her chambers, hurrying through the vast halls of the rock towards the defenses. Reaching the wall, she gazed out towards the sea. Ten Ironborn long ships had come ashore. Archers fired down upon the invaders from either side of her. Unfortunately for the defenders, her husband and father had taken all the real soldiers to the islands with them, along with the king and Ned Stark. All that remained were old men and boys. Yet, despite this disadvantage, they appeared to have The Ironborn in retreat. She heard a shout, and glanced down over the walls. What she saw both explained the fleeing state of the islanders, and filled her heart with dread. There, leading a sortie against the enemies, was her seven year old son. Daeron shouted to his

'soldiers', urging them on.

"That's it men, for the Rock!, we've got them on the run. What did I tell you? No courage on land!" He stood just behind his men, sheathing his sword and drawing his bow. He knocked an arrow to the string, and fired. Ceryse watched with pride as her son's shot found its mark, piercing the leg of the commander of the Greyjoy forces, and dropping him to the ground. Two of his men, wrenched him to his feet, and he turned to glare at her boy. Only then did she recognise him. Victarion Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Fleet, and 'king' Balon's own brother. That shot ensured that Victarion never walked without a limp again, earned her eldest the enmity of the captain of the Iron Fleet, and his entire family, and earned him the name 'Archer Of The Rock'. Tywin Lannister had been most proud to learn that his eldest grandson had shown his mettle at such a young age, and with such untrained rabble to support him. He had saved his grandfather's seat.

For payment for this noble act, at the age of thirteen, Lord Tywin had knighted his prospective heir.

Daeron stopped walking, and turned to her, kissing her hand. They had reached the dining hall. She pulled him into a hug. Stunned, he slowly, uncomfortably returned the hug. She sighed. What was her boy's problem with intimacy? They pulled apart. He smiled, kissed her cheek, and left the hall. No doubt to find his older siblings and foster-sister, so that they could leave for the North. And Winterfell. Ceryse Alleryon turned to meet her youngest children to break her fast with them, and put her mind off her eldest leaving her for some time.

Daenerys

Daenerys, or Danny as her foster family called her, gazed out her window across the courtyard of Starfyre hall. She smiled at the thought of her home. For Starfyre hall had been just that for as long as she could remember home. With her foster-parents, John and Ceryse, John's daughters, Melissa and Bethany, and the children of John and Ceryse; Daeron, her protective elder brother, stern and proud, who many whispered was more Targaryen then she. Lucarion, who shared their silver-gold hair and high cheekbones, but with green Lannister eyes, and the cunning of the Lions of the Rock to boot. Then there were the twins; sweat and innocent, their youthful expressions seemed so irreconcilable from those of their Lannister family, like Tywin Lannister and his brood, who always seemed to be making some new plan. Starfyre hall had been built with the township of Starfyre situated all around it. The 'town' had grown to become the fourth largest city in Westeros, just behind nearby Lannisport and larger then Gulltown. High walls surrounded the city. Ships passed in and out of the harbour, and by land, carts brought gold from Castamere, Tarbeck hall (renamed Jackson's Hall) and the Spyre, all seats of the bannermen of her foster-parents. Gold and trade had made John Alleryon and his family the second wealthiest in Westeros, second only to the Lannisters. Her entire life, Danny had known to fear Tywin Lannister. She knew the only reason she was alive was because king Robert trusted lord Tywin to keep an eye on her. If he deemed her to be a threat, there was nothing her family could do. Not that they would not die to defend her, however. Somehow, that thought made things worse. Still, Daenerys thought as she gazed over towards the Dragon tower, the crowning joy of Starfyre Hall, near the pier, there were perks to being raised as an Alleryon as well as a Targaryen. For one, she could marry for love. Few ladies had that luxury. Only she and the Alleryon daughters. A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. Turning from the windows, she strode towards her bedroom door. It opened to reveal Daeron standing on the other side. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, if half-heartedly.

"Morning Daer. What is it?"

His answer was as formal as they had been recently.

"We are riding for the Northern Riverlands to meet the kings procession. I am to represent my grandfather and the Westerlands, and my father wishes for you, Mels, and Bethany to accompany me". Daenerys smiled and nodded to her foster-brother, before gesturing for him to step out into the hall to wait for her to dress. He did as he was bid. Daenerys threw on a silver dress, and tied her hair back for a day of riding. Lastly went her riding boots. Once she was ready, the Targaryen heiress stepped from her chambers into the hall to greet her foster-siblings. She smiled at Melissa. Despite the fact that they had different parents, the two girls were essentially twins. Melissa and her younger sister Bethany were the daughters of lord John and his first Wife, Daelia Velaryon. Daelia had died, and John, needing a Male heir had remarried. When Daeron was born Mels, as they called her, was ecstatic. She viewed him as her 'baby brother', now 'big-little brother, on account of the fact he was taller then her. Bethany, who had hated Ceryse, had been far less so, seeing him and her other half-siblings as bastards, and declaring that she would never love them, or name them her kin. She treated Danny herself just as poorly. Whilst the relationship between John's oldest daughter and his oldest son was strong, there were some in the Westerlands, Daenerys had been told, who feared that civil war would erupt upon Daeron's succession between him and Bethany, so strong was their hatred for one another. As far as both were concerned, they were not related, and, although he still allowed her to share his roof until marriage, lord John had all but disinherited his second child. Danny herself, who saw the estranged siblings together, knew that the chances of civil war were indeed real. Daeron had discussed with her his intent to break with family tradition, and force his sister to marry a man of his choosing, or, better yet, force her into the life of the silent sisters.

The foursome strode from the halls, down to the castle courtyard. Daeron turned to Michael, his squire, ordering him to saddle their horses. Three hours later, she found herself surrounded protectively by Westermen as her foster-brother rode at the head of the vast procession, his shirt of black scales covered by his black surcoat. Upon the surcoat she knew, was engraved the sigil of his house, a silver stallion upon a black field. The Westerlands rolled past them as they rode, Melissa and Bethany on either side of her, as far away from one another as the ring of men around them would allow. They were on their way to meet the Lord of the seven kingdoms. The man who wanted her dead. Robert Baratheon, the usurper.

Daeron

'at the pace we are making, we should be able to head the royal court off just south of the twins.'

Daeron watched as the countryside rolled past them as they made their way through the Westerlands and through to the Riverlands. Before long, they would meet the king and his entourage on the road, as his aunt's wheelhouse slowed their pace. Daeron's sisters themselves and Daenerys all insisted on riding. That worked just fine for him though, as it allowed them to travel faster across the countryside. Like his parents, Daeron disliked such delays as those caused by wheelhouses. He preferred to get to where he was going as quick as possible. His Silver-blonde hair billowed in the breeze behind him. Above circled Maekor, his Pendric Eagle. It had become the custom of his family to tame the Eagles of the nearby hills as companions, scouts and message carriers. Maekor had been named for the founder of his house. Maekor Alleryon was the son of Rhaenyra, the daughter of Aegon the conqueror and his beloved sister Rhaenys. Upon his grandfather's death, Maekor had been granted what would become the seat of Starfyre Hall by his brother Aenys, the first of his name, in order to keep a watch on the Westerlands and to take advantage of their rich gold mines for the crown. During the time of the Targaryen kings, from Aenys down to Aerys the second of his name, Alleryon gold had been shared between the two houses. Until the rebellion. Daeron's father had made the choice to stand for what he thought to be right. He had called his banners, and rode for Casterly Rock, to discuss the matter with his liege lord, Tywin Lannister. The pair had decided to call their banners in support of Robert Baratheon and his fellow rebels. Lannister had elected to wait until after the Trident, but John Alleryon had rode out at the head of a host of ten thousand to represent the Westerlands on the field of battle. He had fought bravely, against Rhaegar, for a time, and against his own brother, who had supported the loyalist cause. The Trident had ended with John Alleryon a disgraced kinslayer, and an irreparable divide between John and his brother Geoffrey.

After the war, for his services, lord Alleryon convinced Robert Baratheon to spare the last Targaryen; Viserys had been assassinated by Robert's supporters, trying to flee. Now, House Alleryon and Daenerys were in the same boat; the last remnants of a dying house. His father had stood for the realm against Targaryen tyranny, and Daeron's cousin Joffrey would one day sit the Iron Throne. Sometimes Daeron found himself wondering what things would have been like if his father had pushed his own claim. In many ways, his father's claim was stronger than Robert's. But the realm had not been ready to replace one Targaryen family with a Targaryen cadet branch. And so Robert was crowned. Daeron's thoughts turned to his foster sister. Daenerys seemed hurt by the formality with which he treated her in their recent dealings. It hurt him too. Growing up, the pair of 'young dragons' as his father's and grandfather's men had called them, had been inseparable. They did anything and everything together. And wherever one was, the other was never far away. But, last year, Daeron had noticed a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and in his chest whenever Danny was near. After awhile, he decided he needed to put a name to these new feelings. He was too embarrassed to discuss them with either of his parents, and so went to the next best thing. His favourite uncle.

Tyrion Lannister was the smartest person Daeron knew. If there was anyone who would have an answer to his problem, it was the 'imp' of House Lannister. Telling his parents he was going to go riding down the coast, he made for Casterly Rock and Lannisport. There, he found his beloved uncle in his chambers reading. The dwarf had glanced up at his nephew's arrival. Smiling, he greeted him with a hug and questioning raise of the eyebrow. Returning the hug and taking the offered seat, Daeron told his uncle of his problem. Tyrion had laughed then, confusing Daeron. The young man had become angry, and began shouting, before his uncle calmed him down and explained why he was laughing. Daeron was in love. This realisation lead to some good-natured teasing from his uncle. Between japes, Tyrion inquired as to who it was who had captured his 'stoic nephew's' heart. Daeron replied, confessing his feelings were for Daenerys.

At that, Tyrion sobered suddenly. He lowered his gaze, before gently placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. Daeron looked at his short uncle, confused. What was the problem? Tyrion sighed, before looking his nephew straight in the eye before telling the young knight how sorry he was for him. Sorry? What was there to be sorry for? Tyrion lowered his gaze. He refused to speak. Daeron glared down at his uncle, and snapped at him to answer.

"Nothing can ever come of your feelings. The king would never allow it. Nor would my father". The imp explained to his nephew, whilst trying to make it as painless for them both as possible. Tyrion liked his eldest nephew. He had a great deal of respect for the lad, and hated to see him hurt. Once again, he lamented the cruelty of the world. How could it be fair that not everyone could marry for love? The dwarf had winced at the sudden memories of the time he had attempted to do just that.

Daeron closed his eyes at the pain of the memories of the conversation. He knew why it was Robert would never accept it. He would not see the union of the two branches of the Targaryen dynasty. He feared the political power that would unleash. And of course, there was another problem standing in his way. Daeron himself. Ever since discovering he had feelings for Danny, he had avoided the girl. After all, not only was it impossible for any sort of relationship to end happily, but he was simply not good enough for her. Or that was how he saw it. Danny was a sweat and innocent girl, with a kind, loving heart. Daeron himself had demons. He was a killer, a liar, and a terrible person in general. Daenerys deserved someone better than that. Someone who wasn't plagued by the things they had done in their life. Someone more worthy of her than him. Jacob of house Jackson, eldest son of one of his father's most trusted, bannerman, and a close friend of Daeron's, turned to regard him. Jacob's round face was framed with short blonde hair, and hazel eyes gazed concernedly out at him. "Are you feeling alright, Daer?"

Daeron smiled at his friend, and nodded.

"Just missing Tobias, Willem, and the others, is all," he lied, as he turned his head back towards the front. Jacob nodded accepting the answer.

"So, do you think his grace will be glad to see us?"

"Oh definitely".

Both boys chuckled at the shared sarcasm. Jacob was always good for a laugh, because he was rarely serious. A year younger then Daeron, he had yet to see combat, other than on the tourney field. He would make a knight one day though... of some description. Daeron snorted and shook his head. He had more pressing matters to worry about then his friends' futures. He turned to Jacob. "Give the order for the men to pick up the pace, would you?" The squire nodded, raising his horn to blow into it. With that, Daeron and his soldiers pushed their horses further. Daeron rose his arm. Like a bolt of lightning, Maekor swooped downwards, landing on his master's shoulder. The bird squawked, proudly dropping the corpse of the rat it had caught on his sleeve. Beside him, Jacob once more erupted into laughter. He smirked at his friend, chuckling all the while. "That there's an interesting new fashion statement, my Lord!" Around them, other men started to join in on the laughing. Daeron glared at his friend.

"I'll deal with you when we get to Winterfell". He promised, eyes piercing Jacob's like daggers. The squire gulped.

Daeron smiled as his scout gave a call. The royal column had been spotted just north-east of their position, making slow progress towards Moat Cailin. Daeron spurred his one thousand horsemen forwards. They would soon reach the king's host, and then, they would continue onto Winterfell, the seat of house Stark. He nodded to Jacob, who once more rose his horn before releasing a single, winding call, which reverberated across the countryside. The royal column ground to a halt as the knights, the king and his kingsguard twisted in their saddles to face the newcomers. Even from where they were, Daeron could hear Robert bellowing orders in his booming voice to those around him. A single Kingsguard knight rode out from the rest of the king's men towards them as a greeting. Daeron rose his hand. His forces came to a halt as they waited for the kingsguard knight to reach them.

Robert

They had been riding at the same grueling pace since setting out from the capitol. Robert snorted, thanks to that damned wheelhouse, they would never make it to Winterfell. If Robert had had his way, they wouldn't have brought the ridiculous contraption along with them. But Cersei had insisted. He groaned as he recalled their latest argument on the topic.

"Seven hells, woman! If that thing breaks again, you can all get out and walk! I'll have it burnt!"

"And what of your children? Will you make them walk?" Cersei had hissed back at him, standing there screaming at him. Behind her, their oldest 'son', Joffrey, cowered from Robert. Robert sneered at them both.

"It would do your son some good to ride like a man, rather than hide behind his mother's skirts, like a little bitch". Joffrey bristled, but dared not speak back at his father. Robert turned to Sandor Clegane besides him as they rode. "Honestly, Clegane, I don't know what to do with that boy!"

The hound of house Clegane maintained his usual disinterested manner. "Far be it for me to advise your grace on children. After all, I have never found myself a father".

Robert found himself rolling his eyes at that. The same answer as usual. How was it that no bloody fool could tell him how to deal with his violent, half-wit pussy of a son?

At that moment, a horn sounded from the south, out to the west. Robert and those around him twisted in their saddles as their caravan stopped moving. Robert gazed over the banners billowing in the breeze of in the distance. He could make out the Lion of House Lannister, the three hounds of house Clegane, banners from several other Western houses were strewn out across the host. At the front, he could see the Pendric falcon of house Boyde, the Black Swan on green of House Jackson. With them were the Tiger of House Ainsworth, and the Silver rose on purple of house Hawke. In the centre, born aloft on the wind, was the silver stallion on black of -

" Alleryon." Robert muttered, angrily. He turned to his left, shouting orders.

"Kingslayer! Go greet your nephew!"

Jaime Lannister, for it was he that Robert had addressed, pushed his force into a gallop. He rode towards the other party, discussing something with the leaders. Eventually, he turned around, and rode back towards the king and his fellow knights.

Lannister came to a halt before Robert, next to him sat, on a white stallion, a tall figure of about fifteen or sixteen with silver-blonde hair that fell down to the nape of his neck. Rhaegar's purple eyes stared intently back at him. The image was completed by the shirt of black scales under the surcoat with the rearing silver stallion of his house. The young man slung out of the saddle of his horse without warning. Despite himself, Robert pulled his own horse back slightly. The young man bowed low before him, head facing the ground.

"Hail, Robert Baratheon, first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men,lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm. In the name of my father, John, of the house Alleryon, and my grandfather, Tywin of house Lannister, I, Daeron, heir to Starfyre Hall and Casterly Rock, place myself and these men at your disposal". Robert glared down at the kneeling figure at his feet. He had heard rumours from Varys that many in the Westerlands, the Reach and Dorne referred to him as 'Aegon the dragon come again'. And yet, as he stared down at the boy, gesturing for the him to stand, all he could see was hair that fell even longer, down to about shoulder length, and armour inset with a three-headed ruby dragon. 'Rhaegar' whispered a voice, unbidden, in Robert's head, before his vision changed to the armour crushed and the rubies gone. He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts.

"Any more dragonspawn with you boy?"

The boy bristled at the insult, before merely nodding and gesturing to the centre of his men. Three girls around the same age as him rode forwards. Two wore riding clothes with the same stallion stitched into the hem. The third wore a dress with a small three-headed dragon engraved on one side , near the neck. Robert's glare shifted to her.

"The former princess".

She ignored him. Unable to stomach the sight of them any more, Robert ordered them to the back of the procession, along with the Kingslayer and the imp. It would be a long ride to Winterfell.

That night, as they camped about half a day's ride from the Stark fortress of Winterfell, Robert glared at the Alleryon and Targaryen banners flying outside the tent of the newcomers. Cersei was inside the tent, along with that twin brother of hers, talking to her nieces and nephew. Tommon and Myrcella were in their own pavilion. He didn't particularly care where Joffrey was at the moment. If the boy had gone off somewhere, no doubt that dog of his was not far away from him. His heir would be fine. Robert had more pressing matters to deal with. Like the dragonspawn not far from his own sleeping quarters. He stormed over to the pavilion, shoving the flaps aside, he glared at the occupants. The Kingslayer and his nephew bowed low. The Targaryen former princess and the two Alleryon girls curtsied hastily. The only recognition he received from his wife was a nod of the head and "Robert, my love?"

Robert turned towards the boy on the tent floor. Snapping at him to rise, he stared into the purple eyes of the young man. The boy held Robert's gaze, not flinching once. The king found himself begrudgingly respecting his courage. If he intended to show no fear, than Robert would just have to make him feel some. Starting with this conversation.

"Why are you here, boy?"

The silver-blonde stared at Robert for a moment, before answering. The moment's delay in conversation gave the king the chance to evaluate his subject. He hated to admit, but Robert found himself thinking of the fact that most maidens would consider the boy to be handsome. Perhaps even more so than Robert's own heir. Although, unlike Joffrey, Daeron Alleryon's appeal was less feminine, and far more masculine in nature. Whereas Joffrey looked like a young girl in the clothing of a male, Daeron's muscles could be made out through his Black tunic, which had replaced his armour at some point during the evening. Robert's thoughts were interrupted by a voice. The dragonspawn was speaking again.

"My grandfather sent me here as the Westerlands' representative on your ride north, and potentially in the royal court. Tywin intends to make me the heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands"  
.

Robert almost groaned when he heard that. Despite whatever he wanted, he couldn't really stop the boy and his companions from accompanying them. Tywin Lannister, as the lord of a great house, had the right to be represented at court by a member of his house or his heir. If this boy was his heir, than Robert would have to resign himself to the fate of being surrounded by Valyrian incestuous half-wits. As if he didn't already have enough to deal with with all of these Smug, blonde haired Lannister fools in the capitol. He had killed Rhaegar to ensure that he Wouldn't have to put up with Targaryens. That monster was gone, but every time he looked into this boy's eyes, he saw his old enemy standing there, grinning out at him from the seventh hell.

Robert turned and strode from the tent, storming through the camp site. If he had to deal with them being in the same vicinity, at least he did not have to be in the same room as them.

After Cersei dismissed herself, hugging her nieces and allowing her nephew to kiss her hand, the Alleryon sisters burst into laughter at the sight of Robert. Daeron, ever serious, glared at them. Inside, he too was amused, but also concerned. Concerned for his family, and for the realm.

'that's the 'king' my father fought Aerys for?' he thought, worried what would become of the country if it remained under Robert Baratheon's misrule. Beside him, Daenerys was shaking, not out of cold, or fear, but anger. He slipped an arm around her. Glancing up, she smiled. Then she frowned slightly, before grinning up at him.

"Your Uncle's a fool".

He blinked. What was she talking about? She had always gotten on well with his uncles. Or, at least with the ones she had met. Then, he realised what she meant. The king was his aunt's husband. Daeron shuddered at the thought of being related to Robert Baratheon. Even if it was only through marriage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bran**

His brothers hung around, circling like ravens. Bran felt as though they were swarming him. Squawking, waiting for him to make a mistake. Waiting for him to fail. Jon and Robb offered friendly advice. He was keenly aware of his parents watching them – watching him – from above. Bran loosed, the arrow flew through the air, missing the target as it hit the wood of the railing off to the side of the makeshift target. Bran glared at the bow, as if willing it to miss again. His brothers chuckled, including Rickon. Bran turned his glare towards the younger Stark boy. What did he know about archery? What did Rickon know of anything at his age? Theon Greyjoy, his parents' ward, snorted at him. Above the laughing Stark boys, lord Eddard called his youngest and two oldest out for their actions, than encouraged Bran to keep it up. Training was brought to an abrupt end by Theon signalling them from the yard at lord Stark's behest, but not after an incident with their wild sister, Arya.

Now they were riding out to an execution with their father. Robb said the man to be executed was just some deserter from the Night's watch. Bran wondered about that. His uncle Benjen was the first ranger for the watch. He was a good, honourable man, but he also demanded a lot from his recruits. Bran found it had to believe that any deserter would risk so much for simply the chance to get some warmth. He must have known he would be executed. The punishment for desertion from the watch was clear. Of course, rumours were already spreading like wildfire from one man to the next. Many of his father's soldiers had whispered of white walkers. Apparently, according to them, the deserter – a ranger – had seen the walkers. They had killed the two he was with, after a duel with the youngest of their party, and almost killed him. Jon and Robb both found that a ridiculous notion. Bran wasn't sure. All the stories old nan had told them had to come from somewhere, didn't they? But that was what made Bran different from his brothers. His curiosity. Whilst Robb and Jon obeyed their father when he told them not to do something, and Jon avoided lady Stark at all costs, Bran's curiosity often got him into situations that, if it were not for the fact that Arya often disobeyed their parents as well, Bran would be constantly punished for. Jon and Robb enjoyed fighting in the yard, and Theon loved archery. Sansa preferred the precision and artistry of needlework, and enjoyed the songs and happy stories Nan would tell. Bran liked sword fighting, and hated archery. His real passion was for climbing. You could learn a lot when on a roof or scaling a wall, the young Stark had learned. He felt secure when he climbed. Safe. Bran didn't feel safe now, as they came before the doomed boy. He only felt sad, and alone. Jon put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't look away". Jon Snow told him.

"Father will know if you do". Bran didn't look away.

 **Tywin**

The scion of house Lannister gazed out over the waters of the sunset sea. Increasingly, Tywin Lannister had found himself pondering the threats facing his family and his own mortality and legacy. Tywin didn't know for sure how he would be remembered, but he knew he refused to be remembered like Tytos Lannister. A weak fool of a man not fit to be a lord. Every decision Tywin made in his life followed that philosophy. And every decision was shrewd and calculated. He never did anything without a reason. His reason for his actions in the Castamere revolt were simple. Destroy the house root and stem, and no one would challenge your authority. That was the reasoning for drowning them in their own mines as well.

He had also had a reason when he gave the order for Gregor Clegane to kill Elia Martell and Rhaegar's children as well. The thinking there was obvious; he needed his new king to trust his loyalty to the throne. For, as much as he respected it, Tywin new that gold alone could not always win a war. And he had no desire to find himself in a conflict where he would potentially have to face three kingdoms, with no allies to support him, hence his refusal to march to Aerys' aid. That, and the snubs the mad king had inflicted upon house Lannister. So he sacked King's Landing, and gave Clegane a blatant order to murder the Targaryen babes. All to appease Robert Baratheon.

Tywin knew that many in the Westerlands found his close working relationship with the Alleryons uncharacteristic of the man who had destroyed two houses for the good of his family. Many believed that it spoke volumes of the animosity between the two when, in the wake of war against the throne, John Alleryon called his banners, and with three thousand men, rode for Riverrun. Many lords whispered of the bizarre situation; the head of a cadet branch of the royal family fighting against the throne, whilst Tywin, his liege lord, remained behind? Many throughout the other kingdoms spoke in hushed tones of the 'cowardice' of the lion of the rock. What they failed to understand was that the things Tywin did _not_ do were just as shrewdly calculated as those that he did. He refused to march to the aid of Aerys because he saw the necessity of his removal from power, and because he had no desire to commit house Lannister to a war that they could very well have lost.

Tywin refused to punish Alleryon for the simple fact that he respected John Alleryon for his determination and refusal to be cowed to and recognised the threat that removing Alleryon posed to him if Robert and Ned Stark took issue with such actions. He also recognised the value of house Alleryon. Through their vast trade empire and gold mines, House Alleryon had risen to become the fourth richest house in the realm, behind only his own, House Hightower and House Tyrell. Tywin was distinctly aware, unlike his second daughter, that the gold in the Westerlands, despite the fact that it would outlast them, would not be accessible forever. Perhaps something could be learned from House Alleryon. Rather than depend solely on the mines they had received after the fall of Castamere, they had recently expended their trade routes, with ships sailing as far as Qarth.

Tywin Lannister recognised not only the threats potential enemies posed to house Lannister, but also the opportunity. And so it was, when Eddard Stark called for mercy for the recently captured princess, Tywin supported his fellow lord paramount. He swayed Robert by reminding the young man that, in the Westerlands, he could keep a close eye on the young girl. And so it was that the former royal was shipped off to Starfyre Hall, for Lannister knew that if Robert proved to difficult, many houses, the Tyrells and Martells included, would flock to Daenerys, and thus, to house Lannister. Tywin turned back towards his desk and untouched glass of water. Such morbid thoughts of death and war could wait for a more pressing time. Now, he had economics to deal with.

 **Catelyn**

The bird arrived when Ned and the boys were out, maester Luwin had told her. A raven, from King's landing. Ned often said that black words travelled swiftly on black wings. This time he was right. Now she had to find a way to break the news to Ned. Jon Arryn was dead, and Robert was riding north with the entire court. Striding out into the yard, she followed the path down to the one place she knew she would find her husband. He always went there after an execution. The godswood. The godswood was strange, alien place to Catelyn. Whilst the Starks, like most northern houses, kept faith with the old gods, Cat herself had been named in the light of the seven, as was the custom of House Tully. Her husbands gods always made her feel like an outsider. She found Ned sat on a fallen branch, absent mindedly running a whetstone along the blade of the ancestral Valyrian steel great sword of house Stark. For centuries, Ice had served justice to all enemies of the north. Her husband looked up at her approach. He smiled at her, though it did not reach his grey, misty eyes.

Ned's smile shrunk from his face as he saw the stony look on hers. "Cat," he asked, concerned, "what happened? Did one of the pups bite?" At the mention of the dire wolves, Catelyn frowned. Beasts like those were no fit pet. All the same, she shook her head, handing him the letter.

"Their still being named. Snow called his ghost, and Robb chose Grey Wind. I'm afraid the news is grave, my love. Jon Arryn is dead". Ned's face fell and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Catelyn smiled sadly at him. She understood his pain. Jon Arryn was more of a father too him then his own. And he was the main reason Ned was alive. Ned glanced at her as he finished reading the note. His tone was grave when he next spoke.

"If Robert's coming all the way north to Winterfell, we both know there's only one thing he wants". Her husband stared straight ahead, obviously conflicted. On the one hand, like all Starks, he felt an almost unsurpassable desire to do his duty. On the other, he would have to leave his home. Leave his family. Catelyn did not like the thought of that. Duty came after honour, and they both fell behind family. So said the Tullies of Riverrun. And for Catelyn, the matter was made all the more dire by the consideration of the fate of the last Starks to travel to king's landing. Her good-brother and good-father were dead, and she would never meet them. All for the greed of a king. And for the honour of Lyanna Stark. She sighed. Catelyn knew Ned well enough to know that her husband would ride south with Robert and take the post of hand of the king when he offered it.

No doubt Robert would 'honour' Ned with more 'offers', as well. Catelyn knew well the king's desire to unite the houses of Robert and Baratheon through marriage. The easiest way to achieve this aim would be to marry Sansa, their oldest daughter, to prince Joffrey. She would be very surprised if the king did not propose such a match for their families. Although Ned was a close friend of John Alleryon, having fought with the other man in the rebelllion, and she herself respected him and his wife, Catelyn did not feel joy at the prospect of having the Lannisters as relatives.

Ned broke the silence of the woods, enquiring after the health of her sister and his nephew. She smiled at her husband. Ned was always gracious, with friend and foe alike. Whilst Robert loathed the Targaryens, Rhaegar most of all, Ned remembered the prince with a less antagonistic view point. That had always surprised her about her Northern husband. The northern lords were fond of saying, among other things, that 'the north remembers'. And yet, in a distinctly non-northern fashion, Ned seemed to forgive the Targaryen sins against his family.

She smiled at him.

"The gods are good. They both have their health."

Ned smiled back at her.

"Than there is something to be thankful for, at least. If Robert intends to ride this far north, there's only one thing he wants."

Catelyn lowered her head slightly. This was it. She had known it was coming, but knowing did nothing to soften the blow. Robert would come to Winterfell, he would dine with them, than he would leave. And he would take her lord with him. Quietly, with Ned's arm around her shoulders, the lord and and lady of house Stark trudged solemnly back up towards the castle. There was work to be done – for both of them. They had a royal visit to prepare for.

–

Marching through the halls of Winterfell, Maester Luwin at her side, Cat made preparations. The entire household needed to be prepared for this royal entourage. They would need to lay out food. Both for the royal household, as extravagant a feast as Winterfell could afford, this close to the winter that these northerners saw fit to constantly remind her was coming, and food for the soldiers accompanying the king. Luwin informed her that he had ordered several barrels of wine hauled up from the cellars. Some of these were bound for the royal feast. If the rumours were to be believed, however, the rest would go to Tyrion Lannister, the imp of Casterly Rock. The little Catlyn remembered of the youngest of the old lion's brood, he was more likely to prefer books and candles to wine. She pointed this out to Luwin, who calmly – and respectfully – reminded her that it had been many years since she had last seen him. To save time, they settled on bringing up both candles and wine. Best to be prepared, she reasoned.

 **Tyrion**

Tyrion Lannister whistled merrily along to the tune of the so-called 'Lannister song', the rains of Castamere, as he rode cheerfully along with his brother and nephew. Daeron snorted at his uncle's behaviour. Glancing at him, Tyrion rose a questioning brow.

"Have you forgotten, uncle? Castamere belongs to my family now."

"And so it does. But where are we without our history?"

"Somewhere peaceful and quiet." Jaime quipped from Tyrion's other side.

The dwarf smiled at his older sibling. Before he could respond however, Robert shouted out for Jamie to move to another position in the column, and the kingslayer spurred his horse onwards, waving over his shoulder at his companions. Now they were alone, the Lannister turned to his nephew.

"And how is life in the Westerlands under the watchful eye of my _lovely_ lord father?"

Daeron chuckled at Tyrion's tone. Truely, he could understand why his uncle – in reality, his favourite uncle – hated his grandfather. Tywin Lannister had never shown his youngest child anything remotely resembling affection of any sort. As his oldest grandson and prospective heir, Daeron's relationship with the old lion was much closer. He felt the need to point out that perhaps old man Lannister wasn't as bad as his son considered him to be.

"It's fine, although I worry more about Dany then myself. Tywin isn't really as bad as all that. I respect him, and we have a healthy relationship. Besides my father, and you uncle, I feel closer to no other man."

Tyrion snorted derisively at that.

"And yet, I fear, despite the many traits I inherited from him, I fear I am too like our illustrious king to suit my noble father. You mentioned you feared for Dany. Why?"

Daeron twisted in his saddle to check on the young woman in question as she rode contentedly beside his elder siblings before answering.

"Despite my respect for Tywin Lannister, I know what he is capable of uncle. My father still recalls the deaths of Rhaegar's children. Neither he nor I agree with such barbarism. My grandfather does not understand mercy."

Tyrion nodded. He understood the misgivings of the Alleryons. They were blood to the last two members of house Targaryen, and sworn to protect them. Aemon was safely out of reach, living his twilight years on the wall. But Daenerys was within reach of the Lannisters, and of Robert himself. As such she – and John's family – were in constant peril. Their only security was Tyrion's own sister. So long as John and Ceryse were married, Tywin would not act. Robert would not risk moving without his support.

The pair were ripped from their private thoughts when the signal went up. They had at last come within sight of Winterfell. Reining in his horse, Tyrion turned to address his nieces and nephew, as Melissa, Bethany and Dany joined them.

"Well my dears, this is where we part ways."

Daeron raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Tyrion nodded at his nephew, grinning like a mad man.

"Yes. No doubt the Starks will feast our family this evening. I intend to start said feast earlier than expected and _not_ in the castle."

He twisted his horse around, and made to ride off when his nephew, having whistled after him. Tyrion halted, turning back to the siblings.

Daeron tossed him a small purse full of coins.

Tyrion arched an eyebrow.

"The first course is on me."

 **Arya**

She sat amongst the small folk, soldier's helm nestled comfortably on her head as she watched king Robert's procession ride in through the gates of Winterfell. A myriad of strange and wondrous looking individuals paraded through, some looking like the heroes from her sister's songs, others as though they would not be out of place in a freak show. And, in the centre of it all, the biggest disappointment, was Robert Baratheon. Like her siblings, Arya had grown up on tales of the great Lord Baratheon, demon of the Trident and later lord of the seven kingdoms. The king before her was a fat, bitter old man who looked like he'd knock all his teeth out if he tried to hit you with his famous war hammer.

Her parents had spotted her by now, and she hurried over to join the rest of the Starks, her father removing the helm as she went.

In through the gates paraded a young boy about a year or so younger than Robb and Jon who could only be the king's oldest son. With golden curls, a tall, lithe frame and unblemished skin and rich clothes, prince Joffrey reminded her more of a _princess._ The haughty, unimpressed expression with which he regarded her home and she and her family did little to improve her already low opinion of him. Neither did the figure beside him. Covered in thick armour rode in a dog riding a horse. Or at least, that was her first impression. With a second glance, she realised that the dog's head was in fact, a battle helm with a dog's face for a visor. When the armoured figure removed the helmet, she found herself wondering which looked worse; the dog's head or his actual face. One side of it was hideously scarred, and pock marks littering the skin like craters shone red with unshed blood. He had combed his hair to one side in an attempt to make it look less disgusting. It did not help. Arya watched in fascination as various knights and soldiers rode passed taking up positions. She recognised Ser Barristan 'the bold'. And there, looking resplendent in his armour and snow white cloak came Jaime Lannister. Arya knew about him. The called him Ser to his face, and whispered 'kingslayer' behind his back. She wasn't sure how she should feel about that. After all, the king he had slain had previously murdered her uncle and grandfather. On the other hand, her father had done his best to teach her of honour and justice. Killing the man you were sworn to defend was not honourable, was it? Arya wasn't sure about that one, either.

After the kingslayer, and stopping beside him, came the most interesting individuals that Arya had seen in the group all morning. As she watched the strangers line up in single file, she caught herself thinking 'this is what a royal family really looks like'. There were three females and one male. Even from as far away as where Arya stood, it was clear from the shared silver-blonde hair that these for were related. Behind them sat a young man more plain looking. He clearly defered to the young knight who reminded her so much of Luwin's history lessons and old nan's stories of Aegon the dragon. But it was the young teenage girl beside him that excited Arya. She looked strong and independent. A true Targaryen. Perhaps it was the former princess? Than the others would have to be her father's friend Lord John's oldest children.

The male, whose name she recalled was Daeron glanced around Winterfell. She smiled at the clear look of awe etched seemingly permanently on his features as he beheld the keep. A quick glance at her siblings confirmed that Robb and Bran approved of his apparent respect as well. Sansa, of course, only had eyes for her 'golden prince', Arya glanced in his direction and gagged. Turning back to the Alleryons, she saw Daeron chuckling at her antics. He smiled at her her. She grinned mischievously back. This caused him to return her grin and discreetly point her out to the young girl beside him. Daenerys giggled.

As the royals moved into the castle, Daeron dismounted his horse, and strode over to the assembled Stark children. He and Robb clasped hands firmly, and she overheard the pair arranging a tour of the castle. Next came Sansa. He kissed her hand politely. Daenerys strode directly up to Arya, and knelt before her.

"Hi. I'm Dany." She introduced. Arya smiled.

"Princess."

"I'm no princes. Not any more. Now I am just the ward of House Alleryon. Daenerys Targaryen."

"As far as I'm concerned, your still a princess", Arya whispered softly.

"That she is", Daeron added from where he was talking animatedly with Jon and Robb.

Daenerys smiled almost conspiratorially at Arya.

"I wont tell anyone if you don't".


	3. Chapter 3

G3 – At Winterfell

Daeron

Once the royals were gone, and they were all in the castle, lord stark having returned from the crypts, Daeron walked over to the Stark family. Lord stark smiled at him, shaking his hand, before pulling the young man into a brief hug. The warden of the north released his hold before appraising him. He nodded slightly to himself.

"Last time I saw you, you were a small boy. Do you remember that?" the lord inquired. Daeron grinned at his father's old friend and fellow soldier. He nodded. Indeed he did remember the last time he had seen the lord of Winterfell. After defeating the Greyjoys and securing their home islands, John Alleryon had sailed home to his family in Starfyre Hall. With him had come Eddard Stark, the grim-faced, quiet northern lord, albeit a kind and honourable man. The young heir to Starfyre had liked him immediately. Though he had not been so fond of the young passenger he had brought along with him. Ned Stark's young ward Theon had done nothing but snivel and glare at the Alleryons. Most of his hate had been devoted to Daeron himself, the one who had 'broken' his uncle Victarion when he 'stole' his pride.

"Yes, Lord Stark. It's good to see you again. I know my lord father regretted not being able to come himself." Ned smiled once more at the mention of his friend. Along with Robert and Jon Arryn, the Alleryon lord was one of the few things he missed about the south. It would have been good to see him again. Especially with the recent news of Jon's death, but it was good to see his old friend's son, all the same.

"Tell me Daeron, how _is_ your father these days?"

Daeron sighed, his smile slipping slightly. "He's old leg wound is acting up again. It's starting to take its toll. He finds it hard to ride these days".

Ned

Ned understood instantly. He recalled what Daeron meant by 'leg wound'. During the battle of the Trident, John was one of the first to get near Rhaegar. Between them stood Maekor, his younger brother; the fight between them was brief and furious. Youthful and inexperienced Maekor fell quickly to his knees before his brother, severed hand lying limp in the mud. Having defeated and disarmed his brother John pressed on towards the prince, urging his horse forwards as he did so. What came next would haunt the lord of Starfyre Hall's dreams even during the Greyjoy rebellion years later, and never be forgotten – or forgiven – by the rest of the realm, save Ned, and those who had seen what happened, and knew there had been no choice. His helm ripped from his head, Maekor howled in rage at his brother's back. Claiming an unused horse, he rode towards him, sword thrust forth like a lance.

Before Ned could shout a warning, John heard the war cry. He turned to face his brother. Even now he could still see it in his mind's eye; Pivoting in his saddle, his fellow lord was too slow in turning to face the charge. His side exposed, the blade slid through his armour before catching in his ribs. Staring at his sibling trying to dislodge the sword, John seemed to hesitate. Then, wincing with pain – or perhaps despair – he drove his own sword through his brother's exposed eye, killing him instantly. The young man – no, boy – crumpled in his saddle, before falling from his borrowed steed entirely. John Alleryon was a kinslayer.

That would prove to be his last victory in the battle. Having cut down Maekor, he found himself engaged with Rhaegar and Barristan the Bold, Robert fighting his way towards them. Seeing the lord of Storm's End, John, thinking fast, broke from combat. Taking the bait, Rhaegar sent Barristan after him. The pair battled backwards and forwards, taking blow after blow. Eventually, both their horses were dead. John was a good swordsman, but the kingsguard was his superior in almost every way. Where his strokes became heavy and slow, Selmy was able to bat them aside effortlessly and recover with a single swing. After a while, John's foot slipped in the mud. Selmy raised his sword in a riposte, determined to kill him. He brought it towards him, though the young lord rolled out of the way. The straps of his armour were severed on one side however, and he was forced to abandon his already damaged breastplate, cutting through the remaining leather himself.

The kingsguard kicked him into the dust, stabbing him in the shoulder, and driving his boot into the injury to his side. With this he considered the matter at an end; his opponent was beaten. He had won. In one devastating moment, as he felt cold steel pressed against his neck from behind, Selmy realised where his foe stood above him; determination. Despite his refusal to quit, John, bleeding out, must surely have known how the fight would end; all he wanted was to buy time. Time for Robert to do what needed to be done. To kill John's own kin: Rhaegar. To remove him from the fight, Barristan employed brutal methods, bleeding from wounds to his arms and neck sustained from Jon, he shoved him on the ground, hooking their legs together, and slamming the lord into the river bed. Next, he plunged. His blade slid through the thigh of the injured leg, finally, most brutally of all, with the blade still imbedded, he lifted a fallen mace from the ground, and driving the blade down to the hilt, he broke Alleryon's knee with the mace. Ripping the sword from the bone, Ser Barristan fell to the ground besides his rival, sitting in the dust as he watched his prince collapse under the weight of Robert's Warhammer.

No maester had been able to fully heal the wound to his knee, though John was thankful that his thigh and ribs recovered, and seemed to hold Barristan Selmy in high regard, with no ill will.

Daeron

Daeron Alleryon smiled as he sat at table with his cousins, siblings and the Stark children. The meal was going well, despite the disinterested looks Joffrey shot Daeron and most of their companions and the lecherous ones he gave Lord Stark's oldest daughter, Sansa. These naturally lead to icy glares being sent the prince's way by Daeron's neighbour, Robb. Daeron himself disliked Joffrey, as he had since the first time they had met. For his part, he found his younger cousin to be cruel, vindictive, cowardly and spoiled. Joffrey was jealous of the high regard with which Tywin, Tyrion and Jaime held his older cousin, and this envy had turned to hate. Eventually, when Daeron rescued one of Tommen's kittens from Jofrrey's 'curiosity', this hate turned to loathing. Of all the Stark children, Daeron enjoyed the company of Robb and Arya most of all, though he appreciated the quiet thoughtful company of Jon Snow.

The feast was in full swing; Robert was enjoying himself thoroughly, if his wrenching was anything to go by. The other diners, besides lord and lady Stark, and aunt Cersei, were also merry. Glancing towards Daenerys happily chatting away with Theon Greyjoy, Daeron suddenly found himself in need of fresh air. Standing up he looked towards the double doors. He made his excuses to Robb, with the younger boy simply nodding to him and asking that he check up on Jon outside in the training yard. As he pushed the doors open, only pausing long enough to glare back at Theon, laughing at something Danny had said, he heard voices carrying across the courtyard. He could distinguish the voices of Jon and his uncle Tyrion. He pulled himself up on a beam, hitting a second with his fist as he did so. Resting his head against it, he could hear what they were discussing; mothers.

"You are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister." He heard Jon hissing bitterly.

"Am I?" his dwarf uncle replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure." Daeron smiled sadly at the accurate representation of the relationship between his grandfather and his uncle. Despite his respect for the man, Tywin Lannister was far too hard on what was, essentially, himself writ small. Daeron himself had long noticed, or at least suspected, that all the faults that Tywin hated in his most intelligent child were those he recognised, or rather, failed to recognise, in himself.

"I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said. Daeron sighed; Ned Stark had done his son a great injustice. By refusing to share the identity of Jon's mother, he had denied the boy his heritage. Although Daeron was sure he had a good reason for his silence. The young knight had no doubt it would be revealed in time.

"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are." Somehow, Daeron knew his uncle well enough to know he was grinning at his friend. "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs."

And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. Daeron smiled as he watched his uncle pass him, whistling the 'rains of Castamere'. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.

Leaping off the beam, the Alleryon heir looked towards the stark bastard, grabbing leather armour and a blunted blade. He fixed his friend with a wary eye

"My uncle is right you know," he told the other boy, smiling at him, "you could be great, if you put your mind to it".

Jon nodded slightly, forcing a smile to his own lips. Daeron Gestured to the post Jon had been hacking away at, and then to the training yard they stood in. Jon, realising what he intended, nodded. The pair strode out into the field, both slipping into a ready stance. For one brief moment, Daeron thought, instead of his friend, he saw a strange warrior, bathed in light and wielding a burning blade in his place. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind of the vision.

Daeron slung at Jon first, and the fight was on. For the first few moments, it moved relatively slowly. Both fighters were trying to learn as much as they could about the other; fighting style, strengths and weaknesses, anything that could give them an advantage as the fight wore on. Daeron quickly noticed that Jon was a particularly driven and hard-hitting fighter. He allowed his emotions to take control, drawing strength from his anger and resentment. This made him deadly, but it also clouded his already distraught mind, slowing his judgement. A rap on the shoulder woke the other boy up, and he retaliated quickly, pushing Daeron back on the defensive.

Jon soon began to dominate the ebb and flow of the fight, pushing the knight around like a wag doll. With a poor aimed strike, however, Daeron regained control, driving back just as fiercely. This continued for several tense moments, as they fought around the training yard, both able to gain the advantage briefly, but neither able to capitalise on it. Eventually, Daeron slipped through Jon's guard, placing his blade against his opponent's throat. Panting, he grinned at the northerner. "Dead" he told him, though by now Jon had started laughing. Daeron frowned, why was he laughing? Only then did the young southern heir feel the cold steel against his heart. Jon leaned forward slightly.

"You too," he chuckled. Both boys laughed. Together they sat staring up at the sky in quiet contemplation. Each was lost in his own struggles. After a while, the silence was broken. Surprisingly, it was broken by Jon.

"Why are you out here, Daeron?" the other boy asked. For a few moments, Daeron sat there quietly, trying to decide if he should tell him the truth. Tywin's voice flashed across his mind as he recalled a long forgotten lesson. 'You cannot afford to show weakness to those below you Daeron. You must be strong, like you were when you fought against the Greyjoys.' His grandfather had seen fit to impart this wisdom after he had caught his perspective heir confiding in a young baker's daughter he had made friends with in Lannisport that he had, indeed, been terrified by the Iron born. He smiled sardonically. If Tywin vied the small folk as being below them, than a northerner, and a bastard at that, certainly was.

On the other hand, the young half-stark was his friend, and it would be good to confide in someone closer to his own age than Tyrion. Someone discrete. Someone like Jon.

He smiled slightly, tilting his head back as he began to speak.

"Tell me Jon, have you ever been in love?" he asked, Jon shook his head to indicate that, no, he had not. And if he found the question a surprising one, he made no indication. Of course, Daeron realised, that could just have been because he wanted to hear the story. And so he continued, sharing his deepest secret; it was something he had only yet shared with his uncle, but he found it soothing to confess to someone else, relative stranger in comparison that he was.

"Well, you see Jon, the problem is that I am." Jon blinked.

"But, how is that a problem? Your house has always been famous for their encouragement of marring for love. How could marring the woman you love be a problem?"

Here, Daeron let out a bitter laugh. "Normally," he explained to the perplexed boy, "that _wouldn't_ be a problem. In fact, in my family, in most cases, it is a cause for celebration when one discovers their first love. The problem – in my case – is not that I have fallen in love. Rather the issue presenting itself is _who_ I have fallen in love _with_. You see Jon, we Alleryons firmly believe that love – real love – is something exceptionally rare, never comes easily, and, above all, must be held onto once you find it. To that end, my ancestors decided long ago to break with the Targaryen tradition of marring siblings to one another, and established a new tradition; once an Alleryon reaches a certain age, usually somewhere between his or her 14th to 19th name day, he or she is given leave to travel the seven kingdoms, stopping from castle to castle, until the find a suitable partner. The only stipulations; that the bride, or, in the case of female Alleryons, bridegroom, be noble, that we are sure we have developed feelings, and that they feel the same way, or at least could come to feel the same way. I was sent out on my fourteenth name day, and spent the next year and a half touring the southern kingdoms. I neglected to travel north simply because I realised that what I wanted had been staring me straight in the face my whole life. In a way, this hopeless endeavour my family had sent me out on had actually helped me. Without it I would never have realised my feelings. It was the separation and constant thinking on her that made me see sense. Filled with new found enthusiasm for a tradition which – until that one moment – had seemed to me a complete waste, I rode home to resolve my newly discovered feelings. Upon stopping in Lannisport on my way to Starfyre Hall to see Tyrion; I had missed my uncle, and wanted to confide in him, and hear his advice on the situation. I confess that even then I was not sure if my sudden realisation was indeed that. I needed to know if this was the love my father had spoken of.

Sure enough, when I sat down with Tyrion after he wrapped his arms around me, telling me how much he had missed me as well, and outlined my discovery, he did little more than laugh. At first, I was enraged; I demanded to know what was so humorous. He told me. I was, indeed, as I had suspected, in love. When he congratulated me, enquiring as to who the newest 'lady Alleryon' was to be, I told him without hesitation, filled with naïve joy. Tyrion sobered than. He actually looked heartbroken as he told me how sorry he was for me. Like you, I was shocked; how could love be something to be sorry for? It was when I asked this very question that my uncle sat me down once more and told me what I have been forced to accept, bitter as it is. I will never be able to act upon my feelings. For me to be with the person I love most in this world, would, unlike every other Alleryon in history, be not a cause for celebration, but an impossibility; the powers of Westeros will never allow such a union, for the threat it represents".

Finally he fell silent. Jon stared at him. Daeron tried desperately to gauge what his friend was thinking. Had he been wrong? Would jon tell other what he had just learned, and potentially put Danny and Daeron's own family in peril? Or would he merely laugh at him? Tywin was right. Weakness could never be tolerated.

After a moment, Jon placed a hand on his shoulder. He smiled sadly at Daeron. Daeron couldn't help it. He smiled back, grateful for the small gesture.

Jon, who had remained quiet, spoke once more.

"The reason it can't ever happen. The girl, she's Daenerys, isn't she?

Daeron nodded. With that, Jon stood, gesturing for Daeron to do so as well. The young heir did so, raising an eyebrow as he did so. Jon merely grinned and fell into a ready stance. Daeron couldn't help but laugh in gratitude as he did so as well.

Arya

Arya rolled her eyes as she listened to Sansa, Jeyne Poole, and her sister's crowd prattle on about the 'noble, handsome' prince Joffrey. In truth, Arya found the Lannister prince rude, spiteful, and downright monstrous. His younger siblings she merely found dull. Septa Mordane gushed over Sansa and her embroidery as she usually did, and princess Myrcella, desperately trying to imitate her sister's ladylike grace and failing spectacularly, beamed at the older Stark girl. Again, as usual, when the annoying old woman came to Arya, she found something to criticize. Arya ignored her as she turned to the gossips, as Sansa continued to adoringly praise her golden prince.

"Joffrey's not brave and handsome," she snapped, "he's vile and mean. And besides, I much prefer Daer anyway. He offered to show me some techniques in the training yard today, and Danny said we'd have to go riding together while they're here."

The septa was horrified. She hastily admonished Arya for speaking ill of Joffrey in front of Myrcella. The princess was just as quick to jump to her defence however, declaring how cruelly Joffrey treated her and Tommen. Septa Mordane nevertheless insisted the younger stark girl's needlework was unsatisfactory and she would have to begin again. At that point, she got up and ran out, Nymeria at her heels. She wanted to learn those techniques now. Arya knew of course that the septa would tell her mother of her outburst in today's lesson. She was used to that by now. And if her septa did not tell her, than Sansa certainly would. Nymeria at her heels, she made a beeline for the training yard. She came to a stop on the bridge linking the armoury and the great keep. The bridge commanded a great view of the courtyard, and Arya wanted to watch her brothers spar with Daeron and the princes.

Arya smiled when she caught sight of two silver-haired beauties already standing on the bridge, watching as Robb and Joffrey sparred. Nymeria yipped, gaining the attention of the two onlookers, before running over and sniffing them both. Arya smiled at Daenerys and Melissa. They both smiled back at her and waved. Arya waved back; Melissa hugged the smaller girl, which she returned, and Danny knelt to pat Nymeria's flank. Both girls had encouraged Arya's informal attitude over the duration of their stay, and a fast friendship had grown between the three. Greetings out of the way, the three returned their attention to the fight in the courtyard below. It became clear that the crown prince did not know how to wield a sword to save his life. Her brother landed blow after blow while Joffrey slung his sword erratically through the air. Once or twice he managed to land a blow, but these were merely glancing strikes. Tiring quickly, Joffrey soon forfeited the match.

After Joffrey, it was time for Daeron to fight Robb. The silver haired knight stepped forth, raising his practice blade carefully before him, and slipping into a ready stance. A dark, jealous look crossed the crown prince's features when ser Rodrick complemented the stance, inquiring as to who had trained him. Daeron responded that his tuition had been handled by Ser Mors Hawke, his father's right hand man, and that his uncle Jaime had also taught him through their mock duels. This revelation only served to further darken Joffrey's already foul mood. The difference between Daeron's skill and Joffrey's was immediately apparent. Where Joffrey slung erratically, Daeron carefully aimed and timed each strike, at times even waiting for Robb to move first. Daeron was quick and agile, like Jon, but not as strong. Soon, her brother was on the back foot. After a few moments, Daeron had knocked his blade from his hand, sending it spiralling into the mud, blade first. His own sword levelled at Robb's chest, Ser Rodrick declared him the victor. Just then, Arya caught Danny staring over her shoulder, and sensed someone approaching them. She turned thinking it may have been her mother. She was surprised to see her sister instead.

"What are you doing here?" Arya asked.

"Septa Mordane ended our lessons shortly after you left, so I came to see my prince spar." She answered.

"Well you're a little late," Arya answered, "Joffrey sparred Robb a little while ago."

"And you also missed my brother fighting yours, Stark". Melissa added.

"How did Joff do?" Sansa asked her sister.

"Poorly, Robb beat him easily. I've seen better sword play from Rickon."

"That can't be, Joff is the crown prince, he couldn't have been that bad." Sansa defended, astonished by what she was hearing.

"Believe it Sister; Joffrey is not as gallant as he claimed to be".

"It's true Stark; your brother is good," Melissa told Sansa, smiling down at Robb. When he noticed he nodded politely.

"Though not as good as Daer," Danny added, not unkindly, yet matter-of-factly.

"Jon's better than them both," Arya stated, confident she was right.

With that, the four girls turned back towards the training field. Ser Rodrick was addressing Joffrey now.

"Prince Joffrey, would you care for another round?"

The crown prince sneered at the big knight and said, "this is a game for children ser, I am a prince, and I've grown tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

Arya bristled, whilst the two blondes beside her rolled their eyes. Sansa paid little heed to his tone.

Robb chuckled, "if I recall, you failed to swat at me at all".

Just then, Daeron stepped forward, drawing his own sword and tossing one to Joffrey. It landed near his feet, and he jumped back as if it were a Dornish viper.

Daeron nodded at the crown prince, then at the sword.

"Pick it up cousin. Unlike Ser Rodrick and these Starks, I'm not playing around. And I won't go easy on you. If you want to swat at something, swat at me".

Joffrey's glare intensified as he grabbed the sword, swinging wildly at his cousin, who side-stepped and kicked him in the back of the legs, before rapping him several times with his own sword. Joffrey ran at him once more, slower now. This time, Daeron kicked him in the chest, driving him onto the ground several feet away. Joffrey moaned, Daeron drove his sword into the rack point first, Sansa let out a whelp, and Robb, Jon, Arya, Melissa and Daenerys cheered. Joffrey picked himself up off the ground, and limped away. Daeron glared harshly after him, although he allowed his younger cousin – and his wounded ego – to limp away without further incident.

The final fight would be between Jon and Daeron, despite ser Rodrick's misgivings over allowing a bastard to injure a high lord's heir. In answer, Daeron pointed out that – if he were wounded – it would be by a worthy opponent. Melissa snorted at this. Arya glared at her. Friend or no, no one got away with insulting her brother's skill.

"Jon's the best swordsman in the north, he'll crush Daer".

Danny let out a laugh. "Daer is the best swordsman in the west, and some say the best of the generation. He won't break a sweat against Jon, good as he might be. By now, Sansa had made herself scarce. Arya stamped her foot.

"We'll see".

"That we will".

The fight was fierce, and evenly matched. After close to fifteen minutes, ser Rodrick called it a draw. Jon said something to Daeron, who laughed, and replied. Jon snorted, and the pair walked off, bickering as they went.

"You're too slow off the mark, and you should stop favouring a high guard. Makes you less…predictable," Daeron was saying.

Arya smiled as her brother laughed.

"And you need to move your feet less."

 **A/N: Firstly, apologies for the wait, but I was devoting time to studies and exams.**

 **secondly, As Jon's story would otherwise remain the same as it is in the books (thereby severely limiting his appearances in the story), and he is so popular a character, I have considered a story line with him accompanying Ned, Arya, Daeron and the others on their journey south.**

 **Please vote on that, and provide possible pairing suggestions for Lucarion**

 **An existing female character**

 **An OC bastard from an existing house (provide physical description)**

 **An OC from an original house (provide details such as name, words, sigil, whether they have a Valyrian steel sword/weapon, and house they are sworn to.**


	4. Chapter 4

4 – Road to war

 **A/N: I have decided to skip ahead in the story to events surrounding the beginning of the war in the Riverlands. Apart from that Jon made the decision to travel south, nothing has changed. I have decided to do this to get into the action sooner. I remain open to pairing suggestions for Lucarion. Enjoy! By the way, I have changed the chronology of some of these events.**

Lucarion

Without his older siblings and Danny around, life in Starfyre hall had become less entertaining. He still broke his fast with his mother and younger siblings, still trained his spear work in the yard with his father's men, and still played the occasional game with the twins. The only main difference was that, with his brother gone, their father had come to rely on him more. He was now admitted into meetings with his father. Daer had spoken of them as almost grand affairs; time to plot the furtherance of their own agendas, or the collapse of their enemies. Unlike his brother however, he had not been called on to give any opinions. Mostly, he just stood there and listened. It seemed his father wanted him to learn something from them, but he didn't know what.

As he lunged forwards towards the former commander of the unsullied, black mouse, he felt pride as he struck the soldier's armour. Here was something he could do. And he could do it better than Daer; that was something he took pride in, too. For as long as he could remember, everyone in the Westerlands sung Daeron's praises. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it should though; he and his brother had a typical sibling relationship, they fought, but still made up. Just then, his adorable younger sisters, Rhaenyra and Johanna came charging out towards him. Barrelling into his sides, they each clung onto a leg. He smiled down at them.

Hey, girls". They grinned up at him.

Hello, Lu," the twins chorused. He smiled sweetly at the name. it had come about the first Rhaenyra spoke. She had been trying to say Lucarion, but couldn't get it out. It had stuck ever since.

"What are you two she demons doing out here, eh?" he asked, glaring playfully down at them. A laughing voice behind the three answered for them.

"They wanted to see big brother, and I needed to see you anyway," he looked up to see his mother walking towards them. He smiled as she approached, and, amidst much struggle on their part, dislodged his younger sisters from his person. She smiled as he hugged her. Pulling away, her smile gave way to a deep frown, and for the first time in his memory, Lucarion witnessed a sight he thought impossible. His mother looked vulnerable.

"What is it,?" he whispered, glancing down at the twins, who were gazing innocently between the pair.

"I'll let your father tell you," she replied, voice just as soft, "he needs you in there".

Lucarion nodded, before abruptly taking off for his father's solar. Whatever was going on it had his mother more disturbed then even during Greyjoy's damned rebellion. Had the iron born tried something again? Was that what was happening? Would he actually get the chance to fight beside his brother? His father couldn't. Not anymore. His injuries had seen to that. As he rounded the corner into the hall outside his father's solar, he caught sight of Tobias Ainsworth and Willem Boyde, sons of two of his father's bannermen, and friends to both Alleryon brothers. Willem's face was white when they caught sight of him.

"Good. You're here," Tobias spoke, calm as always, "they are waiting for us".

Lucarion nodded, and the three stepped inside as he opened the doors. His father and his closest friends, advisors and bannermen stood around a square table. Lucarion could make out a map of the north, the vale, Riverlands, Westerlands and Crown Lands spread out on the table. A number of wooden blocks represented armies and castles controlled by each major house.

John smiled as he noticed his son enter. Despite the gesture, Lucarion could make out the lines in his face and bags under his eyes. This was bad news, whatever it was.

"Father," he greeted, making his way to his father's left, "you called the banners. What's going on?"

For a few moments, the room was silent. His father gazed over the hardwood table, whilst his bannermen glanced at one another. Finally, Ser Mors spoke up.

"Your father isn't the only one. Lord Tywin has gathered his host. He's marching on the Riverlands. Its war, son". Lucarion stared at the big man in shock. Why the Riverlands? Surely the Greyjoy forces couldn't have pressed that far inland yet? He asked as much. His father shook his head. Lucarion blinked. What in the name of the seven was going on? This time, it was his father who explained.

"It isn't the iron born son," he explained, almost bitterly. He pushed a strand of hair warily out of his eyes, before collapsing into his chair. Tobias' father snorted. Lucarion turned to regard him. Like his son, Jason Ainsworth was a small, lithe figure. His short brown hair, like Tobias' was messy. The only difference between the pair was the thick beard Jason sported. Even their grey eyes were the same hue and shape.

"If only it were that simple, my lord. No, lord Tywin's marchin' against the Tullys, and he's ordered us to slip in around the other side". Lucarion nodded. He glanced towards the map. By 'slipping in' as Jason put it, they could make their way towards Oldstones. The ruins would make a decent place to camp. They could establish defences on and around the hill, and march on to either Fairmarket or Seagard. Seagard would be the more preferable of the two. He shared his thoughts with the assembled lords. His father nodded slightly. He turned to Mors.

"could it work?" he asked. Mors glanced between the two Alleryons, considering Lucarion carefully. Lucarion gazed back intensely.

The knight nodded. "Yes my lord, the young lord's plan does have merit. It won't be easy taking Seagard though, and we'd likely find the Starks bearing down on us. But I imagine lord Tywin intends to move on Riverrun soon. If we left soon, we could take them by surprise, and approach from another direction". He gestured to Oldstones, than Riverrun, the seat of Hoster Tully. John nodded. Several other lords were too now. His father turned to Royce Boyde.

"How many men do we have?"

Boyde gazed over the map of the northern Westerlands for a few moments, before grabbing up the appropriate sigil representations, and placing them near Starfyre hall.

"Two thousand Alleryon men from Starfyre itself, and five hundred more from Castamere. Houses Ainsworth, Hawke and my own each have a further five hundred". His father nodded slowly once more, considering their options and what orders to give.

"Very well, Maester Yarren, send word to my brother in Castamere, tell him to remain there and call his soldiers to the castle. The rest of you, raise your forces," he turned to Lucarion, "you will take 1800 men from Starfyre hall, as well as the soldiers from our bannermen. 3300 in all; lead them to Oldstones. Make camp there, and wait for further news or orders. I am placing you in command of our forces Lucarion. I know you won't disappoint me," next, he turned to Jason, "you, Mors and Black Mouse will advise my son in military matters".

The two mentioned nodded. Lucarion and the other lords made to depart his father's solar, recognising the dismissal. Willem stopped for a moment, and turned back.

"Lord Alleryon?" he asked, John glanced up at him, smiling warily.

"Yes, Will?"

"Should Tobias or I go tell him? Daer, I mean? He should hear it from a friendly face, after all".

His father smiled, shaking his head.

"No," he replied, "I will go to king's Landing, and make sure my son does nothing foolish". Willem nodded, seemingly finished, and joined them near the doorway. Lucarion was shocked. King's Landing? What had Daeron done?

"Father? Tell Daer what?"

"She's taken him son. Catelyn Stark has taken your uncle Tyrion".

Jon

Jon awoke with a start as he felt something hit his chest. Glancing down the bed towards his chest, he identified the culprit. A set of riding leathers lay in a pile on the bed. Daeron stood over him, fuming as he thrust Jon's sword onto his chest as well. Jon blinked, grabbing the sword and leathers as he climbed out of bed.

"What are you doing in my chambers?" he asked his friend, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Daeron seemingly ignored the question as he asked his own. "Are you feeling up to taking a ride to the vale with me?" he harshly spat, glaring out the window towards the north. Jon nodded, although he was confused. He strapped the sword to his belt. He glanced at Daeron as he pulled black riding gloves over his hands.

"Why though?" he asked, blinking owlishly.

Daeron turned to him. "I just heard from Baelish. Your father's wife took my uncle captive. She's taken him to her mad sister."

Jon nodded as he began to understand. Now it made sense why Daer was so worked up. He was worried about Tyrion. Jon could understand why. The pair were close. He smiled at his friend.

"of course I'll help you get him back. Hopefully I can avoid a war while we're at it". Daeron grunted at that.

"Tywin Lannister is unlikely to go to war for Tyrion".

The two left the room. Together they made their way into the city. Jon climbed on his horse, which Daeron had already brought with his own. He smiled at his friend.

"you knew I'd come?"

"I had a feeling".

Jon shrugged. Together, they spurred their horses down towards the city gates. On the way, they passed king Robert's squire. Daeron raised a hand, stopping Jon in his tracks, he addressed the squire, Lancel and demanded the boy round up the hundred Lannister men stationed in the capitol and bring them to him. The boy glared at him, refusing to comply.

"Listen to me, you impudent cub! I am the heir to Casterly Rock, and _you_ WILL DO AS I SAY! WHEN I SAY IT, IS THAT CLEAR TO YOU?"

Any other argument the other boy could make was cut off by the approach of ser Jaime. He turned to address his cousin as he called his men to a halt. He glanced at the pair, before riding over to Lancel. Lancel glanced up at him, terrified. Jaime smiled his knife like smile. Even Jon gulped slightly. By now, Lancel was shaking.

"You will do as my nephew commands, and then spread the word that Jaime Lannister is offering four gold coins for any man willing to join ser Daeron. Now".

Lancel rushed off to obey; the kingslayer turned to his nephew. He rode over to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Daeron shook it off. Jaime chose to ignore that, Jon noticed, thankfully. The blonde sighed slightly.

"I take it you heard?"

A nod.

Jaime sighed once more, "and you know where I'm going?"

Another nod.

The kingslayer shrugged. Smiling – almost condescendingly – at his nephew, looking him in the eye now.

"And where do you suppose _you're_ going?"

This time, there was no nod. "I'm going to get him back Jaime".

Daeron

Jaime's instructions to Lancel had paid off, as well as the one hundred Lannister soldiers; they had been able to recruit up to 300 sellswords, butchers and young man. Together, he and Jon lead them towards the city gates. Along the way, Daenerys, Melissa and Bethany rode towards them. He ordered the men to halt. Turning to the three girls, he gestured for them to speak. Bethany went first.

"I'm needed back in the west," she told him, holding up a note. He gestured for her to show it to him. Bethany snarled at him, snapping about the fact that her 'half-brother, no better than a bastard' did not trust her enough 'to go home when their father required it'. Daeron glared back at her.

"Fine Bethany," he snapped, "go home. Just get out of my sight."

She nodded and rode past them. She paused however, and turned back. For a few moments, she regarded him.

"I hope you get your uncle back" and with that, she was gone.

He turned to the Lannister captain, ordering him to escort Melissa and Daenerys back to the Westerlands. He nodded, though Melissa shook her head, insisting she was going with him. He shrugged, nodding his acceptance. He didn't have time to have this argument with her. Together the siblings watched as the Lannister men and Daenerys departed from the capitol. Daeron glanced at Jon. He would be doing terrible things to secure his uncle's release. Things that would incite a war between the Lannisters on one side and the Tullys and Starks on the other, if one hadn't started already.

"Jon, you won't like what I'm going to have to do to the Tullys to get my point across. Go back to the keep. Stay with your father".

Jon shook his head.

"I already told you; I'm going to help, but, if it comes to war, I won't kill my family for you."

Daeron nodded. Melissa smiled at the boy.

"If it does come to that, Daer can give you safe passage to your father's men".

With that they set out.

Lucarion

He stood beside Ser Mors, watching the men pitch tents and set up defences. He turned to Lord Jason. In military matters, his father had always taught his sons to trust Jason Ainsworth. Though he was small, and not an excellent swordsman by any means, he was deadly with axes, particularly small, throwing axes. He also had a way with horses, and during his father's campaigns, he and his outriders acted as the eyes and ears of house Alleryon. As such, he had developed an affinity for understanding the enemy. And their weaknesses; Lucarion's father had told Jason to advise him, and he intended to learn a great deal from the older man.

"Lord Jason", he began, would you, Lord Royce, and ser Mors join me in my tent? We must discuss our next move". The other lord nodded, before sending a soldier of to find the other men and following Lucarion through the tent flap. The pair sat, and Jason poured himself some wine, and Lucarion some water. He handed to him. One by one, Mors, Royce, and Tobias filed in. together Mors and Royce sat. Tobias moved to stand behind his father. Royce folded out a map of the seven kingdoms.

"Now, my lords," Lucarion began, "what would you advise should be our next move?"

Mors spoke up first. "We need to know what the other houses are doing. Not just the river lords, but our fellow lords of the west as well".

This was met with agreement. Lucarion nodded. It seemed like a fair point to him. It would be good to have some idea of what was going on around them. He turned to Lord Jason.

"How many outriders do we have?" Jason considered the question, and glanced at his son for a moment. Tobias leaned down, glancing over the map. He spoke momentarily after placing a stallion over Oldstones.

"600 riders, Lucarion".

Good. Tobias, you shall give them orders to separate into corps, and travel in various directions. Report back on the movements of the river lords and of lord Tywin's host as well. If you encounter Lannister forces, bring a message to my grandfather. Tell him we are encamped at Oldstones, and await further orders. Do not be caught by or discovered by the enemy. Return by sunrise". Tobias nodded, and departed from the tent. Lucarion turned his attention back to the lords and knight. He was eager to continue with the meeting, and then survey the defences. Although he was sure that battle would be terrifying, Lucarion found himself excited at the prospect, and enjoyed strategizing. It made him feel as though he was on equal footing with these seasoned veterans.

Ser Mors, you are a gifted soldier, and you've been to many castles across the realm. How many men can each kingdom raise?"

Ser Mors nodded, accepting the praise. "As you know, my Lord, we in the Westerlands are capable of raising 50,000 men. The riverlands, vale, Dorne and the north are all capable of raising 45000 soldiers, although in the case of the North, it will be difficult and time consuming for the starks to raise such numbers across the vast expanses of land. Therefore, we can probably expect around 20,000, if Stark or his son does indeed call the banners," as he spoke, Mors placed a spear pierced sun over Dorne, a dire wolf over the neck, a falcon over the vale, and a salmon over the riverlands, near their own position. A lion went on Casterly Rock, "the iron Islands 20000, the crownlands between 10 and 15000, storm's end could raise 30,000, and the reach alone commands between 80-100,000 men," once again, the appropriate sigils appeared on the map. Lucarion winced. The Martels of Dorne would remain neutral, if they didn't decide to take vengeance on his mother's family. The fact that lady Catelyn had gone to her sister made it likely that the Tullys could count on Arryn support. With the forces arrayed against them, the 50,000 Lannisters would face the combined might of the north, the Vale, and the River Lands. The only houses that might join them would not risk alienating the king or his hand.

They were not in a good position.

Daeron

Captain Jerrold dragged the Tully soldiers they had captured before him. He tossed them at his feet, leaving them to gaze up in fear at his bloody sword. Jon walked over to him. He looked at his friend, than at the Tully soldiers. Placing a hand on his soldier, Jon directed Daeron away. The Alleryon glared at his friend.

Jon ignored the look, "if you're going to have them executed, do it yourself. He who passes the sentence –"

"- should swing the blade; don't worry, I won't be killing them. We can use them ". Daeron knew Jon would not like what was coming next. He didn't really like it himself, but it would be effective in making Stark and her sister fear him. He needed that, if he was going to get Tyrion back. He turned towards the cowering man and Jerrold, who had given orders for several men to hold them down. He stared down at them momentarily, and closed his eyes.

"How many are there?"

"Forty, milord"

"Good. That should be enough to get my point across, Jerrold. Have the men carve out their eyes and cut out their tongues. Than bind them to one another and have them walk in front of us. Tie them to the lead horses so they can't escape".

Jerrold nodded, and it was a testament to the sellsword's experience that he did not bat an eye as he passed along the order. Cleaning his blade on the leg of his riding gear, Daeron strode back towards his horse. Swinging back into the saddle, he rode forwards. Jon sat silently by his side, refusing to speak or acknowledge Daeron or his actions.

Eddard

Robert was dead. It was strange even saying it in his head. Robert was dead, and none of his children were really his. Stannis was the rightful heir, and Ned needed to find a way to remove Joffrey from his throne. He made his way to the throne room. The young king had demanded oaths of fealty from all members of the small council. Renly had fled king's landing sometime in the night. It was said he had been seen heading towards Storm's End, with Loras Tyrell. Near the doors, he found an unexpected friend waiting for him: John Alleryon. Jon stood there, leaning on his cane. He smiled fondly at Ned, who returned the smile.

"How are you, you grim northern wolf?" John asked teasingly, as the two old friends embraced.

"by the looks of it, better than you pony boy". John snorted at the old nickname, bestowed by Robert.

"How's the king, oh mighty hand?"

"Dead".

John fell silent. He placed a hand gently on Ned's shoulder. The warden of the north nodded in thanks, and together, the two lords entered the lion's den.

Ned revealed Robert's final words to the court, having amended 'son' to 'rightful heir'. In answer, the queen regent regarded him, and, taking the decree from ser Barristan, ripped it in to. When Ned tried to do the right thing, he found himself betrayed by little finger and trundled off to the black cells, no doubt to await his execution.

For the first time in his life, Ned truly understood just why the called the black cells such. The darkness seemed to be never ending, and at times he could almost convince himself that he was already dead, and that the darkness was merely that which awaited all men. Suddenly, the door to his cell opened, and the guards tossed a second prisoner into the inky blackness. In the shadows, Ned could not make out either the guards or his new cell mate. What poor fool have they tossed in here now? He thought bitterly. The guard was speaking now.

"Have fun rotting down here with your traitor friend, 'my lord'," Sneered the guard. Suddenly, despair clutched at Ned's heart. A weakened groan emanated from the prisoner on the floor on the other side of their dark little cell. It couldn't be, Ned thought desperately. It had to be a coincidence. They couldn't both be down here. Could they? Resigning himself to the answer, Ned called out questioningly into the darkness.

"Who is it? Who's in here?" he asked, hoping against hope that he was wrong in his fears. Another groan followed, and for a few devastating moments, that was the only reply he received. Finally, painstakingly, John's hoarse voice responded.

"Ned. Ned, is that you?" Ned closed his eyes, and let out a slight sigh. So now, not only was he destined to die, he had signed the death warrant of one of the last friends he had left in the world. He winced. How would he ever find peace, knowing that John's life and children would never forgive him? Thanks to Ned's need to do the honourable thing, they would both pay the price. And there was nothing either of them could do about it.

"What happened up there John?"

"After they dragged you off, I protested. Told the little shit that, dead or not, his father's word was law. He lost it, ordered the hound to drag me off. Clegane punched me in the throat, and as he dragged me out, I could see Cersei trying to reason with Joffrey".

She won't be able to. We have another mad king on our hands".

"Yeah". Silence reigned in their cold, dark cell. Ned wasn't sure how long it lasted for. It could have gone on for minutes, or hours. Perhaps even days, there was no real way of knowing, down in the black cells. Eventually, it was broken by John's quiet, wary voice.

"Ned?"

"Yes, John?"

"What possessed you to go against Joffrey?"

And so Ned told him. Told of how they suspected the Lannisters of being involved in Bran's fall, of why Catelyn took the imp. He explained his investigations, and what he learned. When he came to the end, it felt like a weight of his shoulders. His friend sat there silently in the darkness, processing the information. What ran through his head, Ned did not know. Perhaps he was wondering if his wife had known of her siblings' secrets. Eventually he spoke once more.

"Ned? You know it's over for us don't you?"

"Yes"

Daeron

The Eyrie stretched high above them, as they rode towards the castle itself. Upon their arrival at the bloody gate, they had been ordered to leave their men at the entrance to the vale. Only Daeron and Jon were allowed to continue, Daeron's prisoners bound to a rope tied around his wrist. Jon had only recently began speaking to him, and only in single word responses. It was not a pleasant journey. As they were brought to the audience chamber, a small smile graced Daeron's lips as a familiar voice sounded through the door, sounding relatively unharmed.

"Where do I begin, my lords and ladies? I'm a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated. Gambled and whored. I'm not particularly good at violence, but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me. You want specifics, I suppose. When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe. She was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. If I close my eyes, I can still see her tits bouncing. When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle's boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged and I escaped justice. When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew. I flogged the one-eyed snake. I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry! [makes masturbation gestures] Into the turtle stew, which I do believe my sister ate. At least I hope she did. Once I brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel..."

Daeron burst out laughing at his uncle's words as they entered. The whole hall stopped and turned towards him. Tyrion spun around, and smiled when he saw him standing there. Daeron grinned back at him.

"I'm sorry we're late to the proceedings. Had to pick up a few things along the way" he deadpanned, smiling menacingly at the Tully sisters. Lysa Arryn bellowed at his aunt to be silent, and turned to him and his 'few things'.

"What is the meaning of this, Daeron?" Catelyn stark asked. Daeron turned his attention to her, his eyes were cold and emotionless, though his mouth maintained the same menacing grin. He walked up next to his uncle, stopping besides the little man. Unable to see, the prisoners were forced to follow him. Lady stark and several others let out stunned gasps at the sight of them. Lady Arryn lowered her hand over her son's eyes.

"This, Tully, is my gift to you. A message, if you will. You saw fit to take my uncle captive, and bring him to this woman," he rose his voice, addressing the entire hall. "let this be a lesson to you all; a lion is a dangerous animal to cage, and a stallion can be violent if provoked. This," he gestured to the prisoners "is what will happen the next time anyone attempts to break a stallion". He cut the prisoners loose, and lady Stark gestured for servants to see to them. Daeron turned his attention to the woman's sister

"will you give me my uncle now?"

"No. Your uncle agreed to stand trial. By the king's law, he must see it out". Daeron glared at her, hand on his sword. Several guards stepped forwards, as did Jon, ready to lend a hand if needed. Tyrion placed a hand on his leg. Daeron released his hold of the hilt. He knelt before his uncle, and embraced him. Tyrion smiled.

"Thank you", he whispered. Daeron nodded gently.

"Did she hurt you?" he hissed.

"No", Tyrion soothed the young man.

"Good," he replied, and made to break the hug. Tyrion tightened his hold, pulling him back down.

"Thank you, again, for coming for me Daer". The little man whispered.

Daeron smiled. "You're my family, and I love you. I will always come for you, Tyrion".

The pair pulled away, both with tears in their eyes. Noticing this, they both coughed awkwardly. Daeron stood back, turning his attention back towards the Tully sisters. Tyrion turned to lady Arryn, suggesting a trial by combat, and demanding a champion. Daeron quickly volunteered to fight for him, but Tyrion shook his head.

"No. Remember what Jaime told you about fighting when you're angry. It clouds your judgement. I need someone focused for this". Eventually a sellsword standing off to the side agreed to fight for his uncle. The fight was brutal, and it was clear the sellsword knew what he was doing. In what proved to be a one-sided duel, he killed Lysa Arryn's champion, ser Vardis, and secured Tyrion's freedom. Daeron gave instructions for his men to be allowed meet them at the bottom, and together the four descended the mountain, under careful guard.


	5. Chapter 5

5 – Attack, execution, and arrests

Ceryse

Life in Starfyre hall was eerily quiet, now that John and most of the children were gone. So much so that she had considered travelling south to take the girls to see her family in Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Though she loved her husband and children, and had come to see Starfyre Hall as her home, it would be good to spend some quality time in the rock. The last time she had seen it had been the Greyjoy rebellion. That wasn't a happy occasion. Thoughts of home and family brought her mind to her own children. She smiled sadly as she stroked the hair of the sleeping Rhaenyra, curled up with her sister, using Ceryse's legs as pillows. Of course, this led her to consider her other children. Lucarion, she knew, was encamped at Oldstones in the Riverlands, by his father's order. Melissa, Daenerys and Bethany, whom she had come to consider daughters, to the best of her knowledge, were still in king's landing with John. And Daeron, her Daer. She had no idea where her oldest was. They'd had no word from the capitol since her brother's disappearance. That had prompted John to leave his seat, and ride off to King's landing. He knew their son; knew he'd move the mountains of the moon themselves to get his uncle back. He'd gone to make sure the boy didn't do anything too stupid. But for all they knew, their oldest was half way to the vale already. Or, seven forbid, already on his way back to Starfyre Hall _from_ the vale. She knew her son; to get his uncle back, he'd make sure there _was_ a war, if he had too.

The sense of foreboding she had felt ever since word of her brother's disappearance reached them had only grown when John rode out. She knew she was being ridiculous. It would all be fine, and their family would be quickly reunited. John would soothe Daeron's temper, speak to Ned, and convince him to have his wife release Tyrion. Together, they could go to the king, and get him to put a stop to the war before it truly began.

Outside her door, in the courtyard below, she could make out faint noises. It took her a few moments to realise just what these noises were. Women and children screaming, and the sound of ringing steel; the sounds of battle. Leaping to her feet, she roused the girls, and, picking them up, ran from her chambers. As she made her way down, she stopped a passing maid on her way up. She couldn't quite remember the girl's name. She thought it might have been Gwen, though. Gwen stopped.

"Milady," the girl let out breathlessly, "I was on my way up to warn you and the little ladies".

"thank you, dear," Ceryse told her, as she handed over Johanna to her, she added "what's going on Gwen?"

"They came in the night, milady. It was a trap, the wardens on duty opened the gates. They killed them, and then started butchering everyone".

Ceryse was stunned. The wardens were specially trained to guard the city and the coast from Iron Born raiders. The only reason they would open the gates was for reinforcements. They had been betrayed. But who had done this? None of it made any sense to her, she needed answers. She turned to Gwen, horrified.

"Did you see their sigils?" she asked, urging the girl to speak.

"No, milady, as soon as the first man fell, I ran to find you. I didn't stop to see who it was, I'm afraid, I'm sorry, milady".

She placed a hand on the frightened girl's shoulder, trying to calm her.

"It's alright, I don't blame you. But Gwen, I need you to focus, we have to get out of here. Quickly."

The serving girl nodded. Quietly, the made their way down the stairs. Twice, they had to duck around corners to avoid being seen by enemy soldiers. Ceryse rubbed Rhaenyra's back, desperately trying to keep the six year old asleep. Beside her, Gwen followed her example with Johanna. They slipped through the servants' passage, coming out near the harbour.

Ceryse blinked as they stepped out into the moonlight. All around t hem, she could make out signs of the attack. The ships at anchor in the harbour were burning, and most of the soldiers were dead. Turning towards the dragon tower, a sight caught her eye which made her blood boil. There, flapping in the breeze, a red stallion upon a white field; the personal sigil of her husband's brother. Jaeherys had betrayed them. Several men at arms surrounded them, spears held out in a thicket around the frightened lady and servant. Ceryse prayed the girls did not wake up. A tall man covered from head to toe in red armour rode up to them, he removed his helm, which had been carved in the shape of a horse's head, and dismounted before them. He smiled nastily at her.

"Hello, dear Ceryse. How are my little nieces?"

Ceryse spat in his face glaring at him as she did so. He grabbed her hands, and tossed her too his men. Rough hands grabbed her, and she felt ropes tightening around her. Rhaenyra was wrenched from her grip. The young girl woke up screaming. The soldier who held her struck her on the cheek, and she quietened. Ceryse glared at him, though he ignored her. She lunged at him, but the ropes and the men holding her kept her from reaching him.

"Don't touch my little girl, you bastard!" she shrieked.

Jaeherys turned to them, glaring at the entire group.

"Silence," he bellowed, and indeed, silence fell over them, he nodded, "now, take them to the queen".

John

The cell was dark and silent but for the sound of dripping water elsewhere. He blinked. He had no way of knowing what time it was, although he thought it must be night by then, because he and Ned had been seized in the afternoon. He knew for sure that they would both be dead come morning. He just hoped that Daeron and the girls were safe. When he'd arrived in the city, they were all long gone. He knew where Daeron was. He'd gone to rescue his uncle. John just hoped the boy had had the good sense to send the others home. The door to their cell creaked open; both lords snapped their heads up. In strode a jailor, his features obscured.

Ned glared. "Come for our heads early, or just to torture us?"

A girlish voice answered, "My lords, your blood is the last thing I want", the 'jailor' removed his disguise, revealing himself to be the master of whispers, Varys.

Ned snorted at that, "lord Varys you stood by the queen's side and did nothing as my personal guard were slaughtered, and John and I were dragged down here".

Now, it was Varys' turn to snort. "Lord Stark, when you and your companion were arrested, I was unarmed, unarmoured and surrounded by Lannister swords," he gazed curiously at Ned, then at John, and finally back to Ned. He tilted his head, "when I was a young boy, before I was cut I travelled with a troupe of mummers through the free cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King's Justice must be fearsome, the master of coin must be frugal, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant … and the master of whisperers must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight".

Ned glared at him.

"And what are our roles, lord Varys?" John asked.

"Quite simple, Lord Stark, ignore the truth you have discovered, and confess. Pronounce Joffrey to be the true heir, and Cersei will send you to the wall to live out your days in service of honour and the realm. As for you, Lord Alleryon, renounce Lord Stark, and princess Daenerys' claim to the Iron Throne; if you declare lord Stark a traitor, and Joffrey to be the rightful king, I have no doubt the queen regent will allow you to return to your family, or send you north with Lord Stark. And if you will not do it for yourselves, do it for your children".

This was the chance John needed. The chance to save his children, he knew Varys was wrong. He and Ned were dead. But their lives didn't matter anymore, nor did Ned's honour, not to John at least. What mattered now was buying time. Time for his family and for Ned's as well.

Ned still seemed reluctant though, until Varys pointed out that there was a very real chance the Lannisters would kill Sansa. That seemed to make Ned agree. He asked Varys who he really served, to which the powdered lord replied, simply put, the realm.

Ceryse

They were lead back into the castle, and into John's solar. It seemed so long ago now, that she had stood in here with John, her father, and son, discussing the state of the realm. How was it that that state had fallen so far so fast? They must have overlooked something, made some critical error. It was now clear to Ceryse that some force was acting behind the scenes in the capitol to start a war between the wolf and the lion. Now, somehow, that war, it seemed, had come to her doorstep. Standing in the solar, looking out over the waters of the sunset sea was Bethany. She turned as they were frog marched in, smiling at her cruelly.

"Hello, dear step-mother," the girl cooed at her, striding towards her. Ceryse glared at her. She had known Bethany did not like her, despite all her efforts to get through to her. But to betray her father like this! What had the girl been thinking? How could she do this? Bethany grinned at the stricken look on her face. She turned to Jaeherys, telling him to dismiss his men. They turned from the room, and stepped out into the hall at his order. Bethany walked over to her father's seat, and sat down, still smiling. Closing the door, Jaeherys moved to stand behind her.

"Wondering how I pulled this off, mother?"

"That, and why", Ceryse replied, still glaring harshly at her. Bethany let out a cruel cackle.

"The why is quite simple, really. I didn't want your half-Lannister son stealing Starfyre hall from its true Valyrian masters. My mother's blood will sit upon the throne; I'll make sure of it. You see the people who thought I'd go to war against Daeron for my birth right were correct. I just decided not to wait until father was dead, is all. As for how, also quite simple; uncle Jaeherys has always resented my father for killing their brother. When I told him of my plan it wasn't hard to convince him".

Jaeherys took over speaking, "we decided to implement the plan now, after John told me to remain behind. I realised there was no better time, and sent Bethany a raven". Bethany nodded, holding up a piece of parchment.

"And then," the girl continued, "uncle Jaeherys here did exactly as father ordered. He called in his men. I arrived in the Westerlands just after nightfall and made my way to Castamere". Ceryse couldn't believe what she was hearing. They had played right into the hands of their enemies. She realised then, the full horror of the situation. John was in King's Landing, and their children and Daenerys the seven knew where. Once the realm heard of this, Bethany would make sure all members of house Alleryon were implicated in her treason, not just her and Jaeherys. She'd spoken of taking the throne. The Iron throne? If that was her intended target, than her house would likely be branded traitors; her children would face execution.

Jaeherys was speaking once more. Ceryse half paid attention, "and so we marched on the Hall and your guards were foolish enough to let us in. Now we've captured the castle".

"Lucarion and Daeron will stop you!" The pair turned to look at one another, than at her, and both burst out laughing. It wasn't a humorous laugh, it was cold and cruel. Spiteful, tormenting; they were mocking her.

"Lucarion doesn't have the men to do anything". Jaeherys explained smugly

"and as for Daeron," Bethany added, smiling nastily, "the last time I saw him, he was riding off with my traitor sister and some bastard he befriended at Winterfell on a mission to rescue your brother," Ceryse sighed, their worst fears were confirmed, "it's likely Daer got himself killed trying to free the little imp, Ceryse".

Bethany gave the order to have them dragged off to her chambers and guarded day and night. She felt strong, rough hands once more seizing her. Thankfully, the girls had fallen to sleep on the way to the solar. They hadn't found out about their older sister's betrayal. Yet.

Bethany

Bethany watched as her step mother and her brood were dragged off. She turned to her uncle. They needed to discuss their position, and how long it could last.

"How long can we hold out here?"

He turned back to face her, "like I told Ceryse, if Lucarion tries to play hero, we can hold out indefinitely. He doesn't have the numbers to launch a siege of Starfyre, not as it stands now. And besides, our five hundred men could easily hold this place against an army of several thousand. When the Lannisters hear of what has transpired here, and send a host to retake the castle, depending on numbers, we could hold out for a year. I've ordered the men to spare a single ship from the flames. As long as the Lannisters don't bring in the fleet, you and I can slip out at night in the event of a siege".

"Alright", she responded calmly. She didn't expect her half-brother to be stupid enough to march back from Oldstones. He'd more likely try to find his older brother, or link up with the Stark forces when they marched south. She wasn't worried about him, though. Her main concerns were Tywin Lannister, and the Iron Born.

"And my declaration, did you send it off like I told you too?"

"It's on its way across Westeros as we speak".

"Good".

She gazed at the note the raven had sent. Two words stared back at her.

 _It's time_

Indeed it is she thought, smiling. She tossed the note into the fire.

Tywin

Kevan barged into his tent, servant following him meekly. Tywin raised an eyebrow, to which his brother gestured to the servant. The boy stepped forwards, holding out two letters. Tywin glanced at them, than at Kevan.

"It's bad, Tywin", sighing, he took the raven scrolls. Putting one to the side, he unrolled the first. It was short and simple, written in Cersei's practiced hand. He read over it:

 _Father,_

 _Robert Baratheon is dead. Joffrey is king now. Alleryons named traitors_

 _Cersei_

The second was slightly longer, and perhaps, even more disturbing.

 _To all the high lords and noble ladies of the seven kingdoms of Westeros,_

 _The era of the usurper is at an end. I have laid claim to my family's ancestral seat, as is my right. I do hereby now lay claim to the throne of my ancestors. Let all true men declare their loyalty, for the Iron throne is mine by right, and I will take it._

 _Signed, Bethany, of the house Alleryon, trueborn descendent of Aegon the conqueror and lady of Starfyre hall, rightful queen of the Andals and the first men, and protector of the realm._

Tywin tossed the letters aside, and turned to glare at servant and his brother. "get out," he snapped harshly at the servant. The boy scurried gratefully from the tent. Tywin turned his attention to Kevan. Several things now made sense. Why there had been no word from the Alleryon host after he called the banners. Why his summons to his heir in King's Landing had gone unanswered. "Does Daeron know of this?" he demanded of his brother. It would explain his absence. If he was aware of this, and agreed to support his sister, he was a traitor.

Kevan shrugged. "if he does, he isn't with her in Starfyre hall. Our scouts reported seeing him heading for the vale of Arryn yesterday. At least they think it was him". Tywin nodded. The boy had gone to retrieve Tywin's diminutive son. At least he knew he's grandson hadn't betrayed him. Yet.

"Kevan," he ordered his brother, "go back to Casterly Rock. Raise a new host, and lay siege to Starfyre Hall. Raze the place to the ground if you have too. We must de-root this weed of a queen before it grows".

Kevan nodded, leaving him alone. Pushing aside the reports he had been slaving over, he left the tent. He strode over to the commander of his outriders.

"Get a handful of man together, and go find my grandson. Bring him into my custody, in the name of king Joffrey". The soldier nodded, he stopped for a few moments, and, preparing to saddle his mount, turned back to Tywin.

"Milord?"

"What?"

"Why are we hunting your heir?"

Tywin considered walking away, considered dismissing the soldier. Eventually, he decided there was no point. Rumours would fly through the campsite anyway. So he told him.

"Certain members of House Alleryon have betrayed King Joffrey. At least one of these traitors intends to remove him from power. For all we know, they could all be traitors". He considered the situation for a moment. It made sense for Daeron to have rebelled. He hated Joff. Perhaps he had heard about his father's arrest on the road somehow, got a message to Bethany. It was possible he had orchestrated the entire thing. In that case, he would have needed help. Then, he realized, the one person who would have the mind to help him plan this.

"Captain", he shouted, "Restrain my son as well!"

Just then, a horn sounded through the camp. Soldiers everywhere stood to alert, spears, swords and longbows at the ready. Then Tywin spotted it; from the east, a column of soldiers, and flying above them, the lion of house Lannister. He signalled for calm. The soldiers lowered their guard. The commander of the horsemen approached. He saluted, to which Tywin nodded.

"My lord, we were sent by lord Daeron to escort lady Daenerys home to the Westerlands". Tywin's eyes gleamed. The girl would be a valuable hostage. He turned around, looking for Kevan. He spotted him saddling his horse. He signalled for him to join them. Kevan walked over.

"Yes brother?"

"You are to take these men with you when you go to Starfyre Hall. Commander! You are to escort her to Casterly Rock. She is now my hostage, to ensure Lord Daeron does not move against the king". He ignored the stunned look on the Targaryen girl's face, and her cries. Kevan turned to him; the look of surprise on his face mirrored the girl's.

"You won't kill her?"

"Not yet. The girl has a strange hold over my grandson. I'm sure you've noticed it. She's useful Kevan. Keep her alive – and unharmed. At least for now, that is".

Kevan nodded, before ordering the men to move out.

Lucarion

He was awoken suddenly by Jason tumbling into his tent, a dead raven clutched in his hand. His face was as white as a sheet. Lucarion demanded to know what was wrong. Jason merely handed him the note the raven had been clutching. He took it, staring at Jason still. The lord motioned to the note. Shrugging he unrolled it. What he read stunned him to his core.

 _To all the high lords and noble ladies of the seven kingdoms of Westeros,_

 _The era of the usurper is at an end. I have laid claim to my family's ancestral seat, as is my right. I do hereby now lay claim to the throne of my ancestors. Let all true men declare their loyalty, for the Iron throne is mine by right, and I will take it._

 _Signed, Bethany, of the house Alleryon, trueborn descendent of Aegon the conqueror and lady of Starfyre hall, rightful queen of the Andals and the first men, and protector of the realm._

He couldn't believe what he was reading. They had seen the flames brewing in the west last night, of course, but he never expected...

He turned to Jason, the horror he now felt echoed on the older man's face. He stood up, hastily dressing himself and sliding his mail over his leathers. Grabbing his shield and spear, he left the tent. Jason followed quickly. He turned to the older lord, pacing backwards and forwards. Jason placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop. He collapsed into the older man's chest, almost crying. His father's friend placed his hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him off. Lucarion composed himself as best he could.

"My mother, the girls?"

"I'm not sure, there's no mention of them, as you can see. It is possible they're still alive, but," he trailed off, Lucarion nodded. He understood the unfinished thought. He lowered his gaze, glaring daggers into the ground. Bethany would pay for this. Jason tugged on his chain mail, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"We can't stay here, Lucarion," he insisted, desperately trying to get the younger lord moving. Lucarion nodded, new purpose driving his movements.

"You're right. We need to march back to Starfyre hall and bring her to justice," he replied, preparing to give the order to move out. He slung a saddle over his horse. Jason once more stopped him, however. Lucarion glared at him.

"What are you doing? Get off of me!"

"It's too dangerous, we don't have enough men, and we'd be marching right into royalist territory!" Lucarion stared at him, "think about it, Lucarion. That letter she sent to _every lord in the country_ says she's claimed your family seat. Not who supports her claim to the throne. By now, Joffrey will have issued an edict declaring the rest of the family traitors".

"Joffrey, what has he got to do with anything?"

"That's right, no one informed you yet. Robert Baratheon had a hunting accident, he's dead. Your cousin is the new king. And Lucarion there's more as well. Joffrey has imprisoned your father along with Ned Stark. They're both presumably awaiting execution, on matters unrelated to Bethany's treason".

"Well then surely you expect me to march on King's landing then! To save my father from Joffrey".

Jason shook his head.

"No, Lucarion, we can't take the capitol either. We don't have the numbers. As sad as it is, we must accept that your father is doomed, and hope that Daeron escaped his fate and will reach us to take his rightful place as our new lord".

Lucarion nodded slowly, although it killed him inside. As Mors had explained yesterday, Joffrey could call on close to 15000 men from the crownlands alone. There was no way their dismal force could take the city.

"What can we do? We can't go west or east".

"Fortunately, your Targaryen blood gives us some room to manoeuvre with the other houses. The only options available are to march further north through the Riverlands in an effort to join our host to that of the Starks, or strike out for Targaryen loyalists in the Reach or Dorne". Lucarion nodded. There was certainly merit to Jason's plan. Lucarion knew that during the rebellion, there had been some talk of staking his father's claim to the iron throne, before such ideas were put down by his father and Jon Arryn, simply because it would have been the effect of replacing one Targaryen dynasty with another. But his father had made allies and trade partners in the south, and the Alleryon name still carried some weight with Targaryen sympathisers. Not to mention, they had Danny. Wherever she and Daeron were, that was.

"Alright, but I need to find Melissa and Daeron. We'll decide our next step together".

Jason nodded, than turned to the camp.

"Soldiers, move out".

Joffrey

The crowds were baying for blood. He stood above them with his mother, the council and the stark girl. Stark and Alleryon were brought before the crowd. A great jeer went up around them, directed at the traitors. Joffrey grinned. The high Septon went on and on about the gods and their mercy. He struggled not to roll his eyes. And then, finally, it was almost time. Stark stepped forwards, he glanced at his daughter, and she smiled at him as if to encourage him. Joffrey wanted to laugh at how naive they were. Stark confessed his crimes, how he had conspired to steal the throne from Joffrey. He concluded by informing the people of king's landing that Joffrey was the one true king. Joffrey smiled at his mother then. They had gotten what they wanted. Sansa actually looked relieved.

Then, it was his uncle's turn to confess; this was the moment Joffrey had been most looking forward too. He would have to renounce his own claim, as well as that of his treasonous daughter and the girl he had protected for years, and the rest of his children. He would, in essence, be condemning his entire family, whilst also confirming the legitimacy of the claim of a king he despised. There could be no sweater justice. His uncle glared at him, then turned to stand before the crowds, silently for a few moments. Joffrey was tempted to tell him to get on with it.

Then he started to speak, and the words were unexpected, "people of King's landing, I have been brought before you today, to confess my crimes, and speak truth to lies! What I will say is this, and it is true. Last night, my daughter, Bethany betrayed me and my entire house, by seizing lands and titles that do not belong to her. King Joffrey expects me to denounce her, and her claim to the iron throne. I do.

And yet, he also expects me to denounce my own claim. I hereby deny any claim I may have once had to the iron throne of Westeros," here he paused to catch his breath and let his declaration sink in. Cersei smiled at Joffrey. It was still proceeding as planned.

His uncle continued, "My nephew also requires that I renounce my children as traitors and, like Lord Stark, pronounce him to be my king. I come before you now to say this: Daenerys Targaryen," Joffrey grinned. It was coming, he would renounce the girl and his remaining children, "and my children, apart from my treasonous daughter, are the last true born heirs to house Targaryen, and I will never support Joffrey Waters or deny them their righ-"

His head had been removed before he could continue. Joffrey shouted for ser Ilyn to do the same with Stark. He and the royal party quickly made their return to the red keep. He glanced around him. The people were shouting obscenities, calling him bastard and traitor. How had it all gone so wrong? His cousins and the Targaryen bitch would pay for this.

Daeron

The road through the vale had been relatively quiet, and they had just reached the borders of the riverlands. When they turned west, Tyrion, who he had placed on the back of his horse, tapped him on the back; he twisted his head around to hear him better.

"Are we not going to King's landing, nephew?" the little man asked.

Daeron shook his head, "no uncle, we need to get to grandfather. I have to try to get him not to go to war, if he hasn't already". Based on the look of the surrounding countryside, however, Daeron thought bitterly, it appeared as though Tyrion's excursion had already started a war. Then it seemed as though he and Jon were now enemies. He turned to the other boy. He would have to convince his grandfather to give him leave to travel unmolested. Just then, he spotted red blurs on the horizon. Lannister banners, coming in their direction, and moving fast. Perhaps Tywin was looking for his son. He turned to Jerrold.

"Have the men wait here, we're going out to speak with them". He ordered, the sellsword nodded, raising a hand. Bronn, Tyrion's new hired killer remained with them, as did Jacob. Daeron, Jon and Melissa spurred their horses forwards. They came to a stop not far from the other party. A soldier gestured to him and Tyrion, and they moved forwards. Daeron instinctively rose a hand in greeting. He turned back to his uncle, grinning.

"Looks like the cavalry's here. Literally". His uncle nodded.

"Good of father to send us an escort. To bad he didn't send a rescue party instead".

Daeron frowned; his uncle was being a little ungrateful. After all, Tywin had started a war for him. The soldiers rode up to them; there were six. They surrounded them, riding in circles. Tyrion snorted. Jon looked uneasy. For his own part, Daeron wasn't sure to make of this behaviour. He turned to the commander.

"What are you doing?"

"silence!"

Tyrion glared at the man, "you dare speak to the grandson of your liege in such a manner? When we reach my father, I will have you whipped".

The commander snorted, a sound much like a horse, "when we get to lord Tywin, imp, you'll be in chains. Traitors".

Tyrion sneered. "careful, you should have stopped at imp, ser. I will not sit idily by whilst you accuse us of treason. I am the king's brother by law".

"Tyrion", jon hissed, "something isn't right here,", he turned to Daeron, subtly gesturing to their blades and then the soldiers. Daeron nodded, getting the idea. He turned to the soldier.

"am I to presume you have orders to bring us to Tywin?" he asked of the man, dismounting with his hands raised in a non-threatening matter.

The commander nodded, the others followed his lead, dismounting, as did Tywin's troops.

Daeron turned to Tyrion.

"Stay behind me. There could be fighting; I'm going to try find out what in seven hells is going on". The dwarf nodded.

Daeron and Jon moved in front of Melissa and Tyrion. Daeron preyed they hadn't seen his men yet.

"What are the charges you would bring against my nephew and I?"

"Designing a plot to overthrow his grace, king Joffrey, and seize his throne". Daeron spluttered. That little shit was his king?

Tyrion burst out laughing.

"You are all fools with half-wit parents, if you believe that, and you have no honour".

"You will not come quietly?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Now Jon, now!"

Together they drew their swords, each managing to kill a man before they had time to react. The others were quicker, and each found himself engaged. Daeron with the commander and Jon with his three fellows. Daeron carefully swung his blade, pushing the commander back, his intention was to drive him into the mud, where he would lose his balance, and dispatch him. Then he could help Jon with the other three. After a dozen swings each, he had his opponent where he wanted him. The older man slid in the wet ground, and Daeron swung his blade, decapitating him. While he had been dealing with the commander, Jon had dispatched one of his opponents as well. He rushed over to help his friend. Together, they made quick work of the pair. He turned around, to find Jerrold, Jacob and Bronn standing with the others.

Jerrold smiled and shrugged awkwardly.

"Sorry milord, we didn't realise what was happening until it was happening".

He shrugged.

"It's alright, Jerrold".

Jacob walked over to him. He glanced at his friend, "you alright, Jacob?"

"Yeah, sorry I wasn't there. What in seven hells was this about, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. But I intend to find out".

By then, the others had come to stand with them. Tyrion pointed in the general direction their would be abductors had come from.

"I think you're about to, Daer". In the distance, they could see another army coming towards them. Its commanders were all on horse, and riding at its head. Jon raised his sword.

"Please tell me those aren't more Lannisters". He begged.

Glancing at the sigils and spotting familiar, welcome sights, Daeron grinned, "those aren't Lannisters", he promised his friend.

Melissa saw them too. She glanced at Daeron, "dad?" she asked.

He shrugged, "maybe".

He smiled when he recognised one of the men up front, and raised his sword in greeting. Tobias gestured to his father, than pointed towards their little group. He saw Jason nod, and his father's men changed their course, marching towards them. When the army reached them a few moments later, Daeron stepped forwards, looking for his father. Lucarion rode to the front, leapt of his horse, and into his arms. He was silently sobbing, Daeron stared at him. Something was very wrong, he and Lucarion never had moments like this; they weren't close enough. Instead of question it, he simply wrapped an arm around his brother's head. Lucarion looked up at him.

"I need to tell you something. And then you have to make some important decisions." 


	6. comppoll

**A/N: I was originally going to post this with chapter 5, but it's late at night and I forgot.**

 **This is to announce an important poll, and to post a sort of challenge.**

 **The challenge is quite simple, I'd like for someone to design a banner joining the sigils of houses Alleryon and Targaryen, but you can use any design and colour scheme, the winner will be included in chapter 7, and used for the rest of the story. As for the poll, I'd like you to vote on where Daeron and co. should turn for aid**

 **Robb and the Starks**

 **The Tyrrells (I have interesting ideas for everyone's favourite queen of thorns/ tyrell scheming)**

 **The Martels (honestly have no ideas for them just yet)**

 **Post answers to the sigil completion in my PM box or in reviews.**


	7. Chapter 6

6 – Choices

 **A/N: Before we start, I wanted to address a mistake it appears I have made. In one of the reviews for the previous chapter, an interesting point was made. It seems – based on this review – that the conversation between Jason and Lucarion regarding their situation and the Alleryon bloodline acting to benefit them was misinterpreted. So I wanted to make sure I got this clarified: I did not mean for that conversation to suggest that their Valyrian blood means that anyone would support them. The fact that they are descendants of Aegon means that Targaryen supporters will back them. To the reviewer, thank you for pointing it out. Without you, I probably would not have realised the mistake. I also had a question regarding Jon's situation. Without giving too much away, yes he is, though he may never learn that. Thank you all. Pre-chapter rant: over**

Daeron

They sat there in the tent, staring at one another. Each wondered what to do next. To Daeron, it felt as though everything he knew – his whole world – had been swept out from under him in a single breath. His father was dead, his mother, sisters and the woman he loved, all in the hands of people who were now his enemies. The stricken look on Melissa's face as she stared at him said it all. She felt exactly the same way. How could they move forwards now, a house divided, surrounded by enemies? Lucarion's method had been simple; carry on. He believed, as did Jon and Tyrion, that the way forwards lay in finding some way to take back what his cousin, grandfather and sister – their own blood – had taken from them. To that end, Lucarion had largely assumed a leadership role, with Tyrion to guide him through it. Deep down, Daeron knew it was shameful; he was the heir, the responsibility was his. But he couldn't shake the terrible feeling that this was all because of him. He rode off after Tyrion, and, in the space of two days, his father was dead, and he and his loved ones were outlaws. The flaps of the tent were pushed back. In strode Jason, Willem, Tobias, Mors and Willem's father, Morcar. Lucarion walked in after them. The grief was clear on all their faces, but so was the determination. He stood up, as did Melissa. His sister gestured to the table they had been leaning on and to the chairs around it. Jason shook his head. He turned to Daeron, a solemn look on his face, reflected by each man in the pavilion. They all knew what was coming, what it might mean for them.

Jason drew his sword. He stepped forward and lowered it to the ground in front of him. He knelt before Daeron, bowing his head. Melissa gasped. Like him, deep down, she had known this was coming. But the ceremony made it all too real: John Alleryon was gone. He was the past; they were the future. Jason tilted his head up.

"Daeron, of the house Alleryon, third of your name, I Jason, of house Ainsworth, pledge me and mine to you and yours. This day, I offer you my sword, my shield, and my life, from this day, until your last day. So mote it be". Now, it was his turn. This was a ceremony stretching back hundreds of years, from the days of Maekor, and the founding of his house. Ironically enough, the oath Jason had just sworn was the same Maekor swore to king Aenys. What followed, according to legend, was the king's reply.

"And I, Daeron, of the house Alleryon, do hereby accept and welcome your vow of fealty. I do hereby vow, to never give any order to you, which might impair or bring dishonour on you and yours. Rise and be recognised, as my kin, my shield, and my stalwart blade. So mote it be". The rest of the ceremony followed without much difference, until it came time for Lucarion. Daeron stared at his brother, who gazed back. Lucarion knelt before him. This was something which had never occurred in the history of their house, and something Lucarion had suggested, in an effort to potentially avoid further betrayal from within.

"Brother, I Lucarion, of our father's house, do hereby swear to aid you in any endeavour. And to protect you from harm, as best my abilities allow. I vow, here and now, to never bring shame upon our house, our ancestors, or our descendants. Hear now, this solemn oath, and promise for a new future. Let us build it together". He stood, embracing Daeron, who, kneeling before them, repeated Lucarion's oath and actions. Daeron turned to the entrance to the pavilion, calling for the sentry on the other side.

"Milord?"

"Find my uncle and Jon snow, and have them brought here. Than tell Commander Jerrold I need to speak to him". The soldier nodded, hurriedly departing to carry out his command. Daeron turned to Tobias.

"Make sure the men are ready to leave. We'll be breaking camp immediately after we come to some decision on our next move". He strode from the tent. Daeron turned to the others still there, gesturing for them to join him at the table. Together, they sat. They had just finished pouring drinks when Tobias re-entered, Jon and Tyrion quick on his heels. The three sat. Daeron gestured with one hand for Tyrion to begin the meeting. All eyes turned on the dwarf. He turned to the collection of parchment near his end of the table; extracting a pen, well of ink, and several maps and blank articles of parchment from it, as well as two declarations. He turned his attention to the other occupants. Making sure they were paying attention.

"Right, then, first thing's first. You all know what these", he gestured to the declarations clenched between two fingers, "are; one is from my brother-by-law's twice cursed daughter, claiming the iron throne, and thereby damning the rest of us. The other is a royal declaration by _my_ thrice cursed nephew, declaring any Alleryon, Stark, or supporters thereof as traitors, and outlining certain, according to this document, claims made by lord John before his death. These claims, Joff alleges, are proof of a plot, conspired of by John, Bethany and most of the people in this tent," here, he glanced tellingly at Jon, excluding him from the most, "to overthrow him, and install either Daenerys or Daeron upon the iron throne in his place. His grace has therefore seen fit to declare Bethany – and _everyone_ in this tent, outlaws, and traitors to the throne besides. It's that one that gives us the most trouble. What we need to do now, is make important decisions. Decisions which will shape our future and – seven willing – the outcome of this war, and our country's future; thoughts?" He turned to the assembled lords, Jon and Melissa. It was Lucarion who spoke up first.

"It's obvious uncle. We need to proclaim our own candidate, to oppose Joffrey and Bethany. Get other houses to rally to us, so we can fight back". The others were nodding now; Daeron sat there. He didn't like where this was heading.

"I agree," Jon stated, "the question is, whom we choose to back?"

By this point, Daeron had had enough. "There _is_ no choice: Danny is the last dragon. She is our rightful queen". Tyrion was shaking his head.

"I disagree. Consider this; from the day both you and Lucarion were born, you were groomed to one day rule Starfyre Hall and Castamere respectively. Daenerys has never had that; from the day she came to you, every other noble in the country has looked at her as a disgraced bastard from parents and a brother who were tyrants, and who betrayed the realm. As far as they are concerned, all she is – all she will ever be – is the mad king's daughter. Another incest born, insane Targaryen in the making. The best thing that could have happened to that girl, from the perspective of her claim, would have been to be shipped out of Westeros. It would have given people the time and opportunity to distance her from the idea of her father's it stands, she is no better in the eyes of most lords then Theon Greyjoy; a prisoner, without rights. If you really want her as queen, our best bet is to put forward a joint claim."

"Joint claim, what's that?" Tobias asked. Tyrion nodded, hands on his wine glass.

"It's something that gives us a loophole. And potentially a stronger case to give the realm, anyway; marriage. We wed Daeron and Daenerys, and the two of them rule together. As equals; they both have the blood, and with Daeron, the nobles have something to make them feel easier about the situation. Someone with the blood but not the sibling incest and madness of the Targaryen dynasty".

Daeron stared at his uncle, long and hard. Tyrion stared back, smiling at him slightly.

"Alright then, I'll consider it, but with one condition. I will only marry her if she'll have me. I will not force her into something she doesn't want. I'd take that blasted iron chair on my own before that".

The others nodded.

"Then we have an accord," Tyrion stated happily, " a joint claim if Danny accepts my nephew's proposal. Until he can put one to her however, he shall be the face of our little 'rebellion'. The others nodded, and even Daeron was forced to admit, it made sense. Melissa was the one to put a damper on Tyrion's joyful celebrations.

"This changes nothing. Sure, you have a king, and queen if Danny agrees, but we still only have 3000 men. And no way to get more, and without more men, you can't raid the red keep's pantries, let alone the entire castle". A voice on the other side of the tent resonated, cutting off further discussion.

"Begging your pardon, milady, but you have 3300 men, however little difference it makes," it was Jerrold, who had obviously come for the meeting Daeron had summoned him for. "Truth is, my men and I were promised Lannister gold. It doesn't seem like we'll be seeing any of that now, and, with the country going the way it is, the only way we're getting paid is if we throw our lot in with one king or another. Joffrey's a Lannister, and they want us dead. Bethany betrayed blood, and even sellswords have morals. If it's all the same, I reckon I speak for me entire company when I say this: damn them, bastard and traitor the pair, both crimes against the seven", he spat on the floor, " so, I'd much prefer throwing my lot in with you people, gold or no. our swords are yours, your grace, for as long as you need".

Daeron wasn't much, but it _was_ a start. He thanked Jerrold, and told him to get his company ready to march. Tyrion and Jon unfolded the map the dwarf had fished out earlier. Jason drove knifes into several points. He turned to the others.

"At present, this is what we know for sure", he pointed to one knife, driven into Casterly Rock, "princess Daenerys will have been taken here. There are rumours, unconfirmed at this stage, that Kevan Lannister has returned to the rock with the company Daeron had guarding her. We can only assume his brother has given him orders to march on Starfyre Hall, or Castamere." He tapped two more daggers, "then", he continued, pointing to Riverrun, we have Robb Stark, apparently he broke your uncle's siege of Riverrun. How he got past Frey, I don't know. Don't think I really want to either".

"That's the most concrete stuff we've got, other than the fact that Joffrey is doing nothing, and that there's a good chance the Valaryons will declare for your sister, given the family connection on her mother's side. As for the only houses other than Robb that we could hope might throw their lot in with us, we have no idea what's going on in Highgarden. As for Dorne; unless you offer them something massive like the heads of Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch, half the gold and silver in Casterly Rock, and a council positon, they'll never support any claim with you or your brother involved. The shared blood with the Lannisters sees to that".

"Fine, then, then that's what I'll offer them. I always hated Clegane and Lorch, and Tywin's proven he can't be left alive if we want to live. As for the gold and a council position; we'll be needing councillors, and the gold can be replaced by the new lord Lannister once Tywin's been dealt with".

"New lord Lannister, you intend to give the Rock, and the west, to one of Tywin's brothers?"

"No. to his son, actually," Daeron replied, nodding to his uncle.

"The lords despise him, they will never accept him –"

"They don't have to like or accept him, just his right to rule. And they will; he's Tywin's son, his heir".

Lucarion stared at him in shock.

"You'd give it all up?"

Daeron turned to regard his brother. He shrugged, "with the position you lot have placed me in, it looks as though, Danny or no, I'll be king, ruling the entire country if we win this thing. I can't very well do that and govern one of the kingdoms, can I?"

Lucarion shook his head, looking sheepish.

Daeron turned to Tobias

"Can you spare two riders to carry messages for me?"

"Yes, I think we can manage without two men, Daer".

"Good," Daeron told his friend, neglecting to point out the lack of his use of the title of lord, or, even worse, 'your grace'. He intended to avoid that one for as long as possible. He turned to his uncle, gesturing to the parchment, ink and pen. The lord handed them over. Dismissing his makeshift council, Daeron put pen to parchment, writing fast. The outcome of the war depended on the swift arrival of these messages.

He had just signed them both when Tobias returned with two soldiers. Daeron glanced up, folding the letters. Unfortunately, without his father's seal, he had nothing to bind them with, or wax. He handed the first to one soldier, giving him strict instruction to place the note in Robb Stark's hands, and no one else's. The second was granted with similar instructions, to go to Randyll Tarly. The men nodded, he gestured to dismiss the three. Finally alone, Daeron leant back in his chair, letting out a deep, racking sob.

Robb

The soldier arrived near midday, stating he had direct orders to pass correspondence onto the lord of Winterfell only. Robb thanked the man, than ordered for him to be given food and supplies. He glanced over the letter, unsealed. Carefully, he unfolded the parchment.

 _Robb,_

 _As you are no doubt aware by this point, my friend, both of our fathers have been executed by the Lannisters. I know you marched south, and only recently succeeded in breaking my uncle's siege on Riverrun. Congratulations are in order for that, it seems. And for getting past late Walder, as well. The truth, Robb, is this; I write to you in desperation. The Lannisters and my sister hold people very dear to me, and I need men to take them back. It is my hope, and firm belief, that an alliance can be made between our two houses, to ensure the defeat of house Lannister, and removal from power of Joffrey._

 _Signed, Daeron, of the house Alleryon, rightful lord of Starfyre hall, and claimant to the iron throne of Westeros_

He considered his friend's words carefully. Any alliance would be made difficult by his uncle, but it was not impossible. And it gave them a legitimate claimant to support. They would need to remove Joffrey from the iron throne if there was ever too be peace. Robb would insist upon that, and the bastard's head. He quickly drafted out his reply in his head, and sat to write it. Once finished, he summoned the rider back.

"Take this to your lord, ser, and deliver it with all haste".

Tyrion

The rider returned in the evening, handing the letter over to Daeron. Reading it carefully, he smiled, before signalling for Tyrion to join him. He stood, following his nephew to the edge of the camp. Daeron stopped to wait for him.

"Good news or bad?"

"Potentially either, at this stage". Daeron handed him Stark's reply. He read over it, nodding as he did.

 _Daeron,_

 _It is good to hear from you. I did wonder, after events in king's landing, if you and my brother would survive. First of all, I would like to apologise for my mother's handling of the situation with Tyrion. She acted out of hand, though you must understand her reasons. She was a mother, concerned for the safety of her son. However, you must also understand, events surrounding your 'treatment' of my grandfather's men will make an alliance – complicated, to say the least. That is not to say however, that it is impossible. I believe my uncle can be a reasonable man, and, as he is currently speaking for house Tully, it is with him you will have to deal to compensate my mother's family for the actions against Tully soldiers. Such compensation, you will understand, is non-negotiable. No alliance will exist without it._

 _In light of our friendship, however, at the very least, I can offer you this: if you would be willing to make your way to Riverrun, I can promise you and those who follow you the protection of house stark. You may rest assured that, whilst you negotiate with my uncle, no harm will come to you. I look forward to seeing both Jon and you again._

 _Signed, Robb Stark, lord of Winterfell_

"do we wait for Tarly, or go now?"

"No", Daeron replied, shaking his head. "Our best bet is to go now. Tarly can decide for himself what he's doing. If the respect and friendly relations between he and father isn't enough to convince him, along with the promise of new titles, I don't know what will. Find Jason, have him give the order. We're breaking camp".

Tyrion nodded, turning away to find the other lord. His nephew's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"And Tyrion, good work in the meeting today. If things go well, and Danny approves of the decision once we rescue her, allowing she agrees to my proposal that is, I would be honoured to have you as our hand."

Tyrion Lannister gazed around the stark army's campsite. The sigils of various northern houses flapped through the air; the giant of house Umbar, the bear of the Mormonts. The flayed man of the dreadfort, and many more besides; taking pride of place, flying over all others, was the dire wolf of house stark. Lord Umbar strode out to meet them. Daeron and the other lords strode of their mounts, and Tyrion felt a brief stab of envy. Jon helped him dismount, and together they walked over to join the others. The greatjon turned to regard Ned's bastard. He strode over to him.

"so, this is Ned's boy? You look like your father at your age lad, although there's also something else to you. Something I can't quite place, a regal quality, but I can't describe it." He shrugged it off, returning to Tyrion's nephew. Tyrion's young friend was mystified. He tapped Jon's leg. The boy bent down slightly.

"For what it's worth, I saw something in you to Jon. Though in your character." The boy smiled slightly at the praise. Tyrion was close enough to hear Daeron and Umbar speaking.

"I knew your father", the big man was saying now, "I must admit i wasn't surprised when he risked his life for ned. Always was the Alleryon way, fighting for your friends. You lot would have been better suited up there with us northern folk".

"Thank you lord Umbar. I only hope I can do my father proud".

"Lad, if your half the man I remember he was, he already is. And enough of this 'Lord Umbar' garbage too, you hear me? I am the Greatjon. My son is the smalljon, and that's the last we'll hear of it, you hear me?"

Daeron nodded. Tyrion smiled, he liked these northerners. In many ways, the Greatjon's uncaring view on life reminded Tyrion of his own lifestyle. The big man gestured towards the castle.

"Robb and the others are waiting for you, and I've held you up enough".

They made their way up to the castle, and, to Tyrion, it felt as though each step was more important, and potentially more dangerous, than the last. Once they were inside, Edmure Tully would be determined to get Daeron alone. Once inside, the boy would be on his own.

Daeron

They stepped into the castle. All eyes fell on them, and the conversation immediately ended. A man who looked like an older version of Robb stood from beside Lady Catelyn. He strode down towards them. This, of course, was Edmure Tully. He turned his attention to Daeron.

"Follow me, lord Alleryon. We can discuss terms in private".

Glancing at his companions, than to Robb, who subtly nodded at him, he shrugged. Following Tully, he was lead to what he could only assume was the Lord's solar. Edmure sat gesturing for him to do the same. Once they were both comfortable, the knight gazed at him.

"Now, tell me, this Lord Alleryon. Why should I support you or an alliance between our Houses?"

Daeron nodded, it was a fair question. He needed a fair response.

"Because, you know I'm desperate, and that I have no choice but to accept your terms. And I know there will be plenty of those. Furthermore, who else is there for you to back, if not me? You and I both know, no doubt, that the Starks and Tullys cannot win this war on their own. Not once Highgarden involve themselves fully. If they side with my cousin, you will find yourself at war with two kingdoms, both numerically superior to you, and with abundant resources. And, if they have not yet, Joffrey's Baratheon uncles will stake their own claims soon enough. Renly cannot win. He knows nothing of combat; he's a politician. But you can bet Stannis will never fall so easily. And he will never submit to have his kingdom being taken from him. I am prepared to negotiate a system of independence for the north and the Riverlands, based upon the Dornish system. Lastly, you honour family above all; Robb Stark is your blood, his father married your sister. That makes him your kin, as well. In short, Ser Edmure, my father died for your family. I can think of no better reason than this; our houses are bound by vengeance. You for your brother-by-law, the father of your nephew, and me for my father and his friend".

Edmure nodded, and some of the tension seemed to disappear. Tully considered him for a few moments, before smiling slightly, and letting out a short laugh.

"You speak well, Daeron Alleryon, and all you say is true. We do, indeed share a common interest, as well as a common enemy. Very well, an alliance there could be. But know this, the terms would be steep. Firstly, as you have already offered, independence, we can flesh that out properly later, however. Secondly, I want certain assurances of the safety of the riverlands. If, when Theon Greyjoy returns to his father, they betray us, I want you to grant the Iron islands to house Tully. Third, and this is two demands in one, really, I expect repayment for the massacre of my men. First, all the gold reserved in Castamere must be granted to my house, and a yearly repayment of 4000 gold dragons a year, for 40 years one for each man. Lastly, your sister, the lady Melissa; I want to marry her, and for any children we have to be in the line of succession to the iron throne, if that is indeed your goal".

Daeron considered the other man. All his demands were fair and reasonable. It was the last one he had an issue with, he would have to run it by Melissa. He told Tully as such. The older man nodded, stepping out of the room to have her summoned. She arrived glancing at them both. She turned to him.

"What is it?" 

"Ser Edmure requests your hand in marriage, and possible inheritance of the Iron throne for your children by him", he told her, trying to gauge her reaction. She nodded.

"alright, then, I'll do it. Father's death put things in perspective for me. I want to have a family of my own. And besides that, if I don't do this, and do it now, we're lost".

Edmure beamed, than turned to Daeron.

"It seems you have your alliance, Lord Alleryon".

Jon

The table set aside for them was not far from that of the northern lords. He was engrossed in a conversation with his brother when they returned to the dining hall. Daeron and Melissa both looked relieved, with the former shooting grateful looks to the latter. Robb's uncle grinned stupidly whenever he looked in Melissa's direction. Jon raised an eyebrow. Edmure tully stepped forwards.

"Lord Alleryon and I have reached terms, and an alliance has been formed between the north, the Riverlands, and the Alleryons. May the seven let us defeat the Lannisters, and remove another mad king!" a great cheer rose up amongst the northerners and the Alleryon bannermen. Eventually, although slower to join, the river lords added their own voices to the mix. Daeron stood, raising his hands to quiet the hall.

"My lords," he called, voice carrying around the hall, "although terms have been reached, and, I pray, the roots of lasting friendship sewn, there remains one matter unsolved. Though lord Tully and I have agreed that the north and the riverlands must share in Dorne's style of independent governance, the river lords and lords of the north must choose a king, and we must discuss the matter of the iron throne. My uncle and brother urge me to take it myself, or wed Daenerys Targaryen to rule by her side as equals. But there is another option they refused to consider! The way I see it, our rightful queen remains a Lannister prisoner, when she should be sat upon the iron throne today. What say you, my lords?"

Argument immediately arose amongst them. Many called for Edmure to lead, others for Robb. Some even suggested the two realms be ruled separately. Jon listened to the various debates, sitting in silence as he watched them shout. Eventually, he rose to his feet. The lords stopped to stare at him.

"My lords", he began, glancing at his brother, "most of you, I do not know. But this I do know for certain. When the Lannisters invaded the riverlands, it was my brother, Robb, who answered for house Tully. Lysa Arryn, your own lord paramount's daughter refused that call. The Starks of Winterfell did not. We have a saying in the north. One that rings true across the entire kingdom, not just winterfell, or Karhold, or the Dreadfort, or the Stoney shore; the north remembers, and we did remember. We remembered our ties to house tully, and my brother rode south, not just for our father, but for his mother. For you, for all of you". For the first time in Jon's life, he saw something in Catelyn Tully's eyes other than loathing. It was shock, shock that he would speak up for her son, and for her.

The Greatjon stood up, and the whole table moved with him. He nodded respectfully to Jon.

"Aye, it's true, my lords. Jon snow speaks the truth, and I admit, I wasn't sure about Robb Stark, but here is what I say now. Robb Stark is an honourable man, a true stark of Winterfell. And although he is young, he has courage and defeated Jaime Lannister in the field. He saved the seat of house Tully then, maybe even the Riverlands altogether", several lords stamped their feet in appreciation. Jon grinned at his brother. The Greatjon turned to point at their table.

"As for the business of the seven kingdoms, why should I let some fool boy like Joffrey Lannister or Renly Baratheon rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Casterly Rock? Fools who won't even fight for their throne! It was the dragons we bent the knee to, and now they're all but dead. Now, a new kind of dragon comes to us, offering our freedom: a half-dragon. I don't know Daenerys Targaryen, but I know well the old warning, as do all of you: every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin! I have no desire to remove one mad ruler, only to replace him with a third within two generations", the other lords were murmuring, and nodding along now.

"and now, before us comes one willing to fight for us, and to avenge his blood and my liege lord. The iron throne was not made for boys like Joffrey, or man like Renly and Stannis, who know nothing of what it means to truly rule your people, to understand them, bleed for them. It was made, for a fighter, a conqueror! That's the way it should be again", he drew his sword, pointing it at first at Robb, than at Daeron, "there, sit the only kings I mean to bend my knee to. The king in the north, and the stallion who rides with dragons!"

Lord karstark nodded.

"I'll have peace on those terms, the Lannisters can keep their Rock, and the Baratheons their storm and fury. The king in the north and the stallion".

A great cry rose up from amongst the northerners and the river lords, a cry which had not been heard since Daeron's ancestor forced Jon's to bend the knee:

"The king in the north!"

From beside Jon, Tyrion stood on the table, rasing his bread knife like a sword. This brought on several laughs from the others,

"and the stallion king" he bellowed, drunk from his wine. Despite this, the Greatjon and the other northerners seemed to take it seriously, for they amended their cheers.

"the king in the north, and the stallion king!"

 _Next time: Robb seizes an opportunity, to great effect. A king's weakness and inexperience lead to disaster, and a queen in the west makes plans_

 **A/N: BTW; subtle shout out to PorcelainPuppetLady in this chapter**


	8. Chapter 7

7 – Let the war begin

Robb

They had marched out before dawn, in the early hours of the morning. The strategy they had made was for Robb and his forces to liberate the castles on the east side of the Riverlands and march for Harrenhal. They knew Tywin needed to hold the castle, if he wanted to regroup after Jaime's defeat, and it could act as a base from which to march in defence of the capital. They intended for Robb to seize the castle, whilst Daeron defeated Tywin in the field, driving his grandfather west. They would thus buy time for Theon, whom Daeron and Robb had sent home to the iron islands, to win over his father and lead the iron fleet against the Lannister ships and sail on the capital. With Greyjoy naval support, Robb stood the best chance of taking the capital. Once they had achieved that, he could re-join Daeron in the west. Robb turned to lord Bolton, who rode beside him.

"My lord Bolton, I'm placing you in control of your own force of footman. Seven thousand strong take them and skirt around the mountain's garrison at Harrenhal if you can. Set up camp somewhere in the crownlands. If the opportunity arises, seize one of the northern castles for king Daeron". The leach lord nodded, breaking off with an already chosen splinter force. Robb hoped the mountain would take the bait, and he would be able to catch him in the rear whilst he hounded lord Bolton east. It would certainly make killing him easier. As lord Bolton left, Robb rode to the vanguard of their force.

They had been marching for days, having had a few battles with Lannister stragglers along the way. Harrenhal lay before them. Their scouts reported that the mountain had about five thousand guarding the castle with the bulk of the Lannister host preparing to face Daeron and his uncle Edmure in the west. Harenhal lay before them, imposing as the stories had said. Black stone towers twisted and scorched. Harrenhal truly was a monstrosity, Robb thought to himself. He gave the order for his men to prepare for a fight. He, lords Karstark and Umber and Dacey Mormont spurred their horses forwards, riding towards the ruined castle. They had only made it just passed half way when a giant of a man rode forth from Harrenhal to meet them, a Lannister soldier beside him. Robb and his bannermen came to a halt, the mountain, for that was who this giant of a man must be, stopped before them. He turned to Robb, smirking nastily.

"The young wolf, I presume?" his voice was deep and powerful, and Robb could detect no sign of mercy in his tone. Robb stared calmly back at him, determined not to let his fear show. The mountain chuckled, though there was no humour in it.

"The mountain who rides, I take it then?"

"That's me boy". Robb bristled, causing the other man to grin at him cruelly.

"you must know, ser, that we have more than enough man to overrun your defences," lord Karstark pointed out to the huge knight from besides Robb. Karstark, it seemed, had taken it upon himself to negotiate. Robb made no move to stop him. The mountain laughed at the old lord. Robb was shocked. What was so funny, surely the mountain realised he had no hope of defeating them?

"You think you frighten me, northerner? I serve Lord Tywin Lannister. He would terrify men far braver then you and your little kings. And while it might be true that I cannot keep you from the walls, I can meet you in battle. I grow tired of defending a ruin, I think I'll come out and taste stark blood". With that, he turned away from them and rode back towards the castle, signalling for his men to march towards them. Robb turned to the others, giving the order to fall back towards their own lines.

The two armies moved in unison. From on top of his mount at the front of the host, Robb could make out Lannister archers falling into ranks behind the spearmen, each pulling back on the string. They released, launching a volley. Robb was barely able to shout out a warning in time. This continued twice more before the two armies slammed into one another. Robb hacked and slashed, cutting men down where they stood. He loved this, loved the chaos of battle, and the swing of his sword in his hand. He loved it almost as much as he hated the Lannisters. For a while, the Lannisters closed ranks, holding the line against his foot soldiers. Soon enough however, sheer weight of numbers and northern valour began to show, and they began to gain ground. From the flank, he could see lord Karstark leading in the cavalry. They would soon slam into the side of the Lannister host. They needed to keep the enemy busy for just a few more moments.

Robb smiled in satisfaction as the stark horse collided into the Lannister archers, before turning towards the infantry men. He could see the mountain, cutting through stark men two at a time to reach him. The two were almost upon each other when it happened. Lord Karstark's cavalry slammed into the backs of the Lannister host. Clegane turned in shock. He gazed around as his men broke ranks, riding with them. Robb gave chase, determined to capture the mountain. Clegane led him away from the battle. In shock, Robb watched as the mountain's horse fell out from under him, its leg pierced by an arrow. Roaring in anger, the big man cut through the neck of Robb's own mount, their momentum carrying the young stark into the ground. Robb groaned, lying in the dirt. Clegane lunged at him, sword raised over his head. Robb barely rolled out from under the big man in time, painfully pushing himself onto his feet.

The two men came together once again as Clegane drove his shoulder into Robb's chest, bringing his blade down towards the young king's shoulder. Robb hastily raised his own blade, turning the big man's strike aside, falling back; Robb raised his sword to defend himself from further strikes. Robb knew he could not overpower the bigger man. He would have to fight smart, and wait for reinforcements to help capture the beast of a man. The mountain continued to attack, with Robb ducking and dodging most of the strikes. Eventually, he was able to drive his sword through the bigger man's leg, dropping him to his knee. Rather than press the attack, and find himself in a dangerous position, Robb took the opportunity to catch his breath, and raise his blade for another round of attacks. Just then, the Greatjon struck the mountain with the heel of his armoured boot, knocking him out.

"Alright your grace?" the big man asked.

Robb nodded letting out several wary breaths. He turned to his men, ordering them to chain the unconscious man and return him to the castle dungeons.

Daeron

He and ser Edmure sat on their horses at the head of the combined Tully Alleryon host. Beside Daeron sat Jacob, flying his knew personal standard. The banner was divided into four quadrants. The top left and bottom right were emblazoned with the silver stallion on red of house Alleryon. The top right and bottom left were dominated by the red dragon on black of house Targaryen. The Lannister force was spread out before them, proud banners flapping in the breeze. There was no sign of the cavalry. Their scouts had reported seeing them ride east. Despite Jason and Tyrion's misgivings, Daeron and Edmure were convinced the horsemen had been sent to support the mountain. Daeron had decided to place Jason in the rear guard of their force, with his brother by law joining Jon in the centre. Daeron himself would command the vanguard. Lucarion would join Jason and black mouse in holding their rear against any surprise cavalry charges in case he was wrong.

Daeron's plan was simple; they would allow Tywin to make the first move, and attack in force when an opening became available. A horn sounded, and the Lannister forces marched towards them. He turned to Edmure.

"You had best get back to the centre. I'll hold position as long as I can."

He nodded, turning his horse around. Daeron dismounted, drawing his sword. He stood beside his men, waiting for the lion to reach them, jaws wide. The first few lines slammed into them, easily cut down. They pushed back against the Lannisters, driving them back towards the hill his grandfather was sat on, surveying the battle. Around him, the men grew excited. Daeron smirked; his grandfather had underestimated him, assuming that numbers would secure him the victory. They pushed forwards even more, driving towards the centre. Daeron's blade was covered in blood as men fell all around him. Eventually, as they drove forwards even further, Daeron realised his mistake. Too late; the Lannister flanks closed around them, cutting of the vanguard and the centre of his force. Then, with a thundering war horn blaring in the distance, he turned to the east to see the Lannister horse, having returned, slam into his flank. He winced, the battle, which just moments ago they had seemed to have won, had turned drastically against them.

All around him tully soldiers fell, cut down by the renewed Lannister onslaught. Soon enough, he found himself fighting five men at once. He desperately called to the soldiers around him for aid. They heard, fighting to his side. He turned to see Jacob, having fought his way through the enemy, signalling wildly with his sword. He didn't have the time to worry about Jacob though, and hastily turned his attention to the battle.

Jon

He watched in horror as the Lannister flanks encircled the vanguard as he and Edmure rallied their own men to push through the Lannister force. For a moment, he thought they would be successful. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it. On the horizon, a Lannister banner; quickly he ordered the men on their flanks to turn to face an incoming charge. No sooner had he given the order, the Lannister horse men his friend had believed gone slammed into their side, pushing forwards like water on rock. His quick thinking had softened the blow, and even slowed the momentum of the charge, but they now faced a battle on two fronts. One they could not afford to lose. Over the din of battle, he heard someone desperately shouting his name. Turning in the direction of the voice, he saw Jacob gesturing with his blade to Jon, himself, then to Daeron. Realising what the other boy meant, Jon nodded. He needed to find a way to get to Daeron, and fast. Cutting his way through the Lannisters, he turned towards their left flank. He turned to Edmure, having fought his way over to the knight.

"I need to get to Daeron, convince him to sound the withdrawal", he explained. Warily, the knight nodded. He slung out of the saddle, joining the men on the ground.

"Take my horse. I'll spread the word. We need to be ready to disengage the bulk of the army. They'll give chase, so we'll have to sacrifice some men, but we need to retreat. We can't win this". Jon leaped into the saddle, riding over to Jacob. He pulled the squire onto the horse. He turned to him.

"Still got that banner?" he asked the younger boy. Jacob nodded. Jon gestured for it. Tearing the fabric off, he handed it back, explaining to Jacob to use the spear. The other boy nodded, understanding. Jon spurred the horse forwards, riding for the ring of Lannister forces. Jacob drove the spear tip into several soldiers, each falling as he withdrew it. Together, they cut their way towards Daeron. The horse fell under them, each leaping off at the last moment. Jacob hurled the spear, drawing his sword as he did so. Jon turned to Daeron. Over the din of the battle, he shouted to his friend.

"We need to break off. The battle is lost".

Daeron hesitated for several terrifying moments, before giving the order to fall back to Riverrun.

Bethany

She smiled; a raven had just arrived from Driftmark. She had the support of house Velaryon, and they were sending her reinforcements by sea. She turned to her uncle. He smiled at her as he read the message. He nodded.

"We have a few thousand men now, but it's still not enough. We need to get more men. I suggest sending contract offers to sell sword companies in Essos. She nodded to her uncle. It was a sound suggestion. They could pay the companies handsomely with gold from Starfyre hall. She ordered him to send word. Turning towards the maester, he gave the order for the letters to be drawn up. He turned back to her.

"I received an interesting message from what I can only assume was a spy last night, one I think you will want to hear."

Bethany snorted. She doubted any spies from house Lannister or her brothers had much useful information for her. She told her uncle as much. He smiled at her, shaking his head. She raised an eyebrow. That was not the reaction she had been expecting. She frowned at her father's younger brother. What did he find so amusing?

"it wasn't from them. The interesting part is that he claims the message came from Jon Connington. Supposedly, our good lord has in his custody the son of prince Rhaegar. Somehow, according to Connington, the boy miraculously survived the sack of king's landing. This 'prince' asks that you put aside your claim, and support him in retaking his grandfather's throne". Bethany stared at him in shock. He sat across from her, crossing his arms. He was waiting for her response, she realised.

"Is it true? Could the boy be Rhaegar's?" she asked. He shrugged, gazing at her thoughtfully for a few moments.

"I'm not sure either way, but I doubt it. That isn't what's important though. What is important is the fact that this boy has the support and loyalty of the golden company. If you were to join forces with him, you could use him to undermine your brother's claim, and that of the Targaryen girl he seems hell-bent on rescuing from old Tywin. And the golden company aren't exactly a spent force in the world. Ten thousand men to the cause can't exactly hurt. I suggest we send word back to Connington and this boy, this 'young gryff'. Invite him here to Starfyre hall, and we can strengthen our force considerably".

She glared at her uncle.

"What about my crown?"

"Marry the boy, and you can keep it. A grateful beggar king is easier to deal with then Tywin Lannister or two vengeful brothers, isn't it?"

She nodded. The idea had merit. But there was one problem with her uncle's plan.

"but if he has their loyalty, like he claims, than his 'king' is probably a Blackfyre".

Her uncle nodded.

"The rest of the realm doesn't need to know that though".

"Alright, send the reply then uncle. I agree, have the boy come here".

Tyrion

Riverrun was awkwardly quiet after the armies of his nephew and the Stark boy left. Most people ignored him, despite the occasional dark scowls. Lady stark had approached him to apologise for her rash behaviour, which he waved off. He didn't have time to worry about that, but, as Tyrion well knew, a Lannister always pays his debts. Bronn had been left behind as well, with the promise of lands and a castle for saving Tyrion's life. Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of an army approaching the castle; he waddled over to the battlements, to see who it was. His nephew had intended to meet Tywin in battle, and then, after securing victory, move west. Both Tyrion and Jason had spoken against this plan, urging his nephew to avoid a confrontation with Tywin so soon. Daeron had ignored them however, stating that his grandfather would need to hold the eastern Riverlands. The best way to avoid that, he had reasoned, was to drive his army west. Tyrion gazed over the battlements, as the soldiers on duty opened the gate. His nephew rode in with ser Edmure, both looking tired and dejected. The little man walked down to meet them.

He turned to his nephew, asking him what happened. Daeron glanced down at him bitterly, before riding on. Tyrion moved on to Jon, who was removing his saddle from his horse. He asked the young man what was going on. Jon looked at him, smiling sadly.

"You were right, Daeron should have listened. He lost, and Tywin has free reign over the Riverlands. "

The boy walked off, leaving Tyrion to stand there alone in the courtyard. He called after Jon's retreating form.

"what were the casualties?"

"We lost seven thousand men. The Lannisters less than half that number, now we have to plan our next move."

Daenerys

She sat in the chambers provided for her. Staring into space, she waited for word on the state of the war. There wasn't much else to do, really. The Lannisters weren't about to let her go wandering through the halls of the rock. She couldn't even leave this, room, and there were guards at all times. Kevan had made it clear what would happen if she tried to escape. She hadn't been told much, but what she had heard wasn't good. Bethany had betrayed their family, and seized Starfyre hall. She wondered what had become of Ceryse and the twins. Then, even worse news from king's landing. Joffrey had ordered the executions of Lord Stark and her foster father. She liked Lord Stark, he was kind to her, and told her the story of his visit to the wall, and meeting her kinsman, maester Aemon. He also encouraged the friendship between Daeron and his bastard son, Jon. he even tried encouraging Dany herself to spend more time with the boy. She supposed it was because they were both in similar situations. For Dany, apart from the Alleryons, she had never known a family, and Jon Snow had no knowledge of his mother.

She wondered what Daeron and Jon were doing at that moment. She had had no word of her beloved protective foster brother since he left her with the Lannister soldiers back in the capitol. She supposed he had rescued his uncle and rode into the Lannister trap. The thought of Daeron and Melissa having been killed by her captors was not a pleasant one. She smiled sadly to herself as she remembered the stories Tyrion and Ceryse had told her of her arrival at Starfyre Hall, and her own memories of the events. John had carried her into the hall, and she could recall the warmth on his face as he smiled down at her, her fingers wrapped around his hand. She must have though he was her father she realised. She smiled at the thought, she could have done a lot worse for father figures. Tyrion, who had been visiting his sister, always smiled fondly when he told her of what happened next.

John, he explained, had carefully handed her over to Ceryse. Mellissa, then five, had peered at her from her father's shoulders, having run up behind him. Tyrion told her that, after introducing herself to the little princess, Ceryse had gently knelt before him, placing her in his arms. What happened next, she could remember for herself. Over his uncle's shoulder, a frown set firmly on his features, stood Daeron. She reached out her hands eagerly. He had shaken his head, mouth moving strangely, with noise she did not understand coming out. Turning away from her, he had walked over to Ceryse, and taking her hand, lead his mother away. Later, both Tyrion and Ceryse had explained, while smiling fondly at Daeron and Daenerys, who had injured themselves climbing a tree near the castle, just what he had said that day.

"We don't want new baby, stay away from mummy!" Dany grinned at the thought. From the day they met, she had idolised her foster brother, walking at him as though he'd hung the moon and stars in the sky. And, for so long he had hated her. She remembered the time when she was two and he was five. She'd found him in the yard, playing knights with Tobias. The other boy had smiled at her, pointing her out to the young heir. Daeron had glared, even as she clutched his legs, and called him 'big brother' with her shaky grammar. He had grinned at her, plopping her in a basket, tying a rope to it, and dragging her from the castle, with her giggling all the way. He dragged her all the way to Lannisport, settling for a space between two merchants, he called out for people to come buy his foster sister. Small folk and highborn alike had smiled at the pair, calling it adorable. She'd seen Tyrion waddling past, and, from her basket called to the little man. He grinned at her, before wandering over to Daeron.

"Daeron, dear nephew, what are you doing to her know?"

"She's taking up mummy's time with me, and I don't want her. I'm going to sell her, I don't want her anymore." The little man had laughed at that, Dany had giggled at 'big brother' and 'uncy Tyr' the whole time.

"Daer, Daer" she had cooed at him, reaching out for a hug. He had glared at her, and Tyrion, sighing, reached into his pocket. Extracting his purse, he had dropped several coins into his nephew's pocket with a wink to them both, and grabbing the rope, escorted both princess and heir to the west home. For Daeron's stunt, he was confided to his rooms for several weeks, and Tyrion was banned from the hall for half a year, because, when questioned as to where he'd got the idea, Daeron had innocently responded,

"But uncle Tyrion told dad he wanted to sell aunt Cersei sometimes, mother." She remembered the tree, when Daeron accepted her, and the first time he said to her, "I love you".

About a year after the sell the toddler incident, a bored Daeron had convinced his parents to let him go for a walk in the gardens. They had agreed, so long as Melissa kept an eye on him, and they talk Dany with them. Daeron grumbled at that, but eventually relented. Ceryse had been trying to make her son see that Daenerys wasn't so bad, and get him use to the idea of her being around. The trio had walked off, wandering into the nearby gardens. Mels and Daeron had sat down at the boughs of an old tree, and before long, Melissa had dosed off. Dany, who had climbed the tree, called down to the others.

"Daer, look at me! I so high!" he had glanced up, and, not to be outdone, climbed until he was a few branches above her. She eagerly scampered up to follow him, but couldn't reach him from the branch below. Just as she was about to fall, she felt a hand around her wrist, and looked up to see him holding onto her hand. He smiled at her, pulling her onto his branch. Scared by the near fall, she had clung desperately to him, crying. He had shushed her, telling her she was fine. She smiled slightly, a tear running down her cheek, as she remembered his promise.

"It's okay, little dragon. Daer's here and I'll always protect you."

Just then, the branch snapped, sending them both screaming towards the ground. The thump when they hit the ground woke Melissa up, and she rushed back to the castle for help. Daeron, who had landed first, took the worse of it. His leg was broken, and he hit his head on the ground, falling unconscious. Dany landed on top of him, before rolling off. She come away with just a broken foot and dislodged shoulder. That night, after Ceryse and Jon had left Daeron's room, which her own sick bed had been brought into at Daeron and Dany's request, she had turned, smiling to regard him.

"Thanks Daer, love you," she had whispered to the boy she had always regarded as a brother, best friend and protector. He had tilted his head slowly, smiling back at her.

"Love you too, little dragon".

Dany stood up to stretch, and glanced around her.

"Where are you?" she whispered, praying he was ok, "you said you'd always protect me. So where are you right now? Please be ok, Daer". Silence was her only response.


	9. Chapter 8

8 – War in earnest

Robb

He rode at the head of his nine thousand men, Jon by his side. It felt good to have his brother with him again, though he truly wished the circumstances were better. He had set out from Harrenhal weeks before, when word from Riverrun had explained what had occurred when his uncle and Daeron met Tywin Lannister. Calling Lord Bolton back to Harrenhal, he had lead eleven thousand men back through the northern Riverlands to Riverrun. With the twenty-five thousand men remaining to Daeron and Edmure, they had split their forces into four, and rode for the Westerlands. Robb and Jon had been sent with orders to take Golden Tooth, and force those still in the castle to bend the knee, swearing fealty to Daeron as their king, and Tyrion as their liege lord. Lords Karstark, Ainsworth and Bracken and Mooton had been ordered to march south and secure Silverhill with twelve thousand men. The last thirteen thousand men were marching towards the north with Daeron to take Ashemark and retake Castamere. Although some of the lords had expressed concern over the fact that this brought his host close to Starfyre hall, and his sisters' eleven thousand men, they had agreed when Daeron explained his strategy. He intended to cut off Casterly Rock, and march on the seat of house Lannister from three directions. It was a sound strategy, one which would hopefully bring the war in the west to a quick resolution.

The soldiers let out a cheer, and Robb glanced up to see what was going on. He grinned as he spotted Golden Tooth not far ahead of them. Taking the castle would secure the road to the Rock. He spurred his men forth, preparing to assault the castle gates.

Kevan

The walls of Starfyre hall stretched before him, and around him stood ten thousand Lannister soldiers. Daven rode besides him, his second in command; he turned to the Lannister knight, instructing him to ready the men for a siege. As he gazed upon the pearl white walls and towers of House Alleryon's ancient seat, for a moment, Kevan could not help but regret the coming destruction, as well as the part he would play in it. He shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts. At least he would be able to free his niece and her children from the traitors. If indeed they were prisoners. They had had little word from Bethany since her presumed coup after all. The only thing they knew for sure was that she had swelled her ranks with sellsword companies and more of the unsullied her father had purchased and freed, until she had amassed a host of eleven thousand men. He could see some of them lined along the walls now, firing volleys down upon his men as they charged for the gate.

He shouted to Devan, telling the younger Lannister to loosen his formation, to reduce damage taken from volleys. He could not see Bethany or Jaeherys anywhere, although he could see Jaeherys' banners flapping over the dragon tower, and some of the archers on the walls wore his colours on their chests. Kevan gave the order for his own archers to fire back, and some of them found their mark, injuring a few of the archers on the wall. Most fell out of range. He groaned, before drawing his sword and spurring the men forwards. They would need to open the gates and engage the defenders if they were to have any hope of winning the battle. They arrived behind Devan's vanguard just as the gates were smashed open. The first wave of attackers fell on the spears of the defenders. Kevan could make out the wardens that had sworn fealty to her, as well as the unsullied holding the front lines. Jaeherys, standing in the third row, spotted him. The lord smirked at him, and Kevan glared, raising his sword to urge his men forward. The fight was bloody, and many men fell on each side. Slowly, the Lannister host drove the defenders back into the courtyard. Kevan smiled, here, they would have more room to manoeuvre. Jaeherys gestured for his archers to join the fighting on the ground, rather than risk hitting their own men. They complied, charging down the stairs, and into the fray. Kevan's soldiers made quick work of several of the lighter armoured archers.

The battle was still evenly matched. Despite having pushed into the courtyard, his men at arms and spearmen still struggled against the longer spears of their enemies, and the Alleryon swordsmen worked well in tandem with the spear men, each defending the other. As well as this, whilst most of Kevan's force was made up of smallfolk, with some knights and trained soldiers, the sellswords were professional soldiers, trained in battle and the use of arms. Kevan's one advantage was that the loyalty of his men depended on more than the gold in their pockets. 

Tobias

The road to Silverhill had been a long one, but they were finally approaching their destination. His father had insisted on making sure that the men were well rested, rather than forcing them to march. Despite the time it had added to their journey, Tobias had been forced to admit it was a sound strategy. Gazing around their army, he could see that each man was ready for the battle to come. He smiled; it would be a good fight, to be sure. There had been some opposition to the strategy Daeron had proposed, especially after the results of the last time he refused to listen to them. That had cost seven thousand loyal soldiers their lives, and almost cost them the war before it truly began. But know, confident in their ability to take Casterly Rock, and by doing so, deal a major blow to house Lannister, the various lords were committed to securing their objectives for the campaign. Tobias' father and his fellow lords who had been sent with him had been given orders to secure Silverhill and Crakehall to ensure Casterly Rock and Lannisport would not receive reinforcements from the south when the final battle came.

His father had placed him in the centre, along with Lord Mooton. Jason and lord Karstark would command the vanguard, and lead the first sortie against the castle gates, pushing through to secure it. With luck, the few hundred defenders would strike their banners and surrender peacefully. His father and Lord Karstark had ridden ahead of the host to deliver terms. From beside him, Lord Mooton pointed to two riders returning to the army. Tobias rode forwards to meet them. He stopped before his father.

"Will they surrender father?"

"They say they'll not bend the knee. Not without a fight at least. They refuse to recognise any king but king Joffrey". Tobias sighed. Despite looking forward to the prospect of battle, he knew it would be better for them all if the Serrett soldiers had simply agreed to their terms and bent the knee. With most of their fighting men in the Riverlands with lord Tywin preparing to lay siege to Harrenhal, or with ser Kevan, they were ill prepared for a siege. His father and lord Karstark gave the order for the ram and ladders to be brought forwards. Tobias returned to the centre. Lord Mooton signalled for the rest of the army to halt, as their vanguard, three thousand strong, rushed forwards towards the castle. The ladders went up with the ram battering into the gates. It was all over within two hours. The peacock of Serrett was replaced with Tyrion's own golden hand and lions and the tiger of Tobias and Jason's own house. Above them flew the dragon of house Targaryen, the Stallion of Alleryon, and Daeron's own personal standard. He grinned as he rode forwards to greet his father in the castle yard.

Tobias watched as his father and lord Karstark's soldiers brought the members of house Serrett who had remained in the castle before them in chains. The soldiers pushed lady Jeyne Serrett and her youngest sons to their knees. Her daughter Falena glanced fearfully at him, her brown hair caked with dried blood. Tobias slung down off his horse, striding over to her captors. He glared at the man, before glancing at her bruised from and torn gown. Gently, he removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulders. He redirected his attention to the men standing behind her.

"Whoever did this will be whipped and flogged, if they do not admit to the crime, you shall all face the same punishment". Two soldiers stepped forwards, their heads lowered, not in shame, but in fear. He glared at them, before signalling for some men to bind their hands and carry out the punishment. His father nodded to him slightly, before turning to address lady Serrett. He stopped before her, gazing down imperiously. He gestured for one of his men to bring forward the castle maester, who handed him a piece of parchment. He unfolded it, reading to the captured nobles.

"Members of house Serrett, you are charged with supporting the claim of the bastard and false king, Joffrey Waters. Despite this treason, his grace, king Daeron, is a merciful ruler. If you bend the knee, and swear oaths of loyalty to his grace, and to lord Tyrion of house Lannister, he will allow you to rise again confirmed in your titles. Will you accept his grace's offer, and surrender this castle to him?" slowly, the older of the two boys stood from his kneeling position. He addressed Tobias' father.

"Lord Ainsworth, my father and brother were killed fighting for the Lannisters at the battle of Acorn hall. That makes me the new lord of Silverhill. If your king can guarantee I won't have to throw away more of my people's lives fighting Tywin Lannister's war to keep his grandson on the iron throne, I'll swear whatever oaths he needs. I've heard enough from the capitol to know we don't kneed Joffrey as our king. And your king is a man of honour; he proved that when he visited Silverhill on the Alleryons' traditional travels to find a potential wife. He was kind to my sister, although she wasn't the one he wished to marry."

Jason nodded, explaining to the young lord that they would require the family to remain as hostages until the campaign in the west was complete, and it was safe for the lords to swear their new oaths.

Bethany

She could hear the sounds of fighting outside. Her uncle's forces were engaged with the Lannister host dispatched to secure the castle. She waited patiently for news of the battle. Her uncle came barging through the doors to the hall, running over to her. She gazed at him, taking in the sight of his bloodied armour and sword. He stood before her, smiling slightly despite the situation and the sweat running down his forehead.

"We've managed to hold them off, and we pushed them back for the moment. They don't intend to retreat however, and they've settled in for what could be a long siege". She nodded, and gazed thoughtfully in the direction of the harbour, although she could not see it. She turned back to her uncle considering their positon.

"Do you think we should take that ship now? Escape while we're still able to?" he shook his head, and sheathed his sword. He fell into a seat beside her, running his hands warily through his hair. He gazed down at the table, pouring himself a cup of wine.

"No, it's too dangerous at the moment, especially now Daeron's sent the Greyjoy boy back to secure Balon's loyalty for his cause. Not to mention Aegon 'Targaryen' and his golden company should arrive soon. With their help, we should be able to drive the Lannisters back, and go on the attack". She nodded. As long as the wind remained on their side, Aegon and his forces should arrive by morning at the latest. With his help, defeating the Lannister Army at her gates would not be a difficult task. She nodded to her uncle, telling him to prepare the men for the next battle. He agreed, and left the hall, allowing her to return to her private thoughts.

Aegon

The combined Targaryen Martell fleet made its way along the western coast, sailing towards Starfyre hall. Upon sailing for Westeros, Aegon landed his fleet in Sunspear, to meet with princes Doran and Oberyn. Needless to say, his uncles had at first been sceptical regarding his true parentage. Convincing them that he was indeed the son of prince Rhaegar and Elia Martell had been the first challenge. The second major hurdle had been in convincing them to support him, and aid Bethany Alleryon in facing the Lannisters. Eventually, after pointing out the fact that Bethany opposed the Lannisters, the house which had butchered their sister and his, and promising them Casterly Rock as well as a council position for Oberyn, Aegon was able to win their support. Now, he was sailing fast to support his last remaining kin in defeating the Lannister's and launch his campaign to retake his grandfather's throne. He knew the war would not be easy. He only hoped he could reach his aunt before Bethany's traitor brother.

His ships had engaged the Tyrell fleet near the shield isles and managed, after some time, to continue on their journey, less a few ships. They were now approaching Lannisport. He turned to lord Connington.

"We need to try avoiding the Lannister fleet, sail as far around Lannisport and the rock as you can."

Connington nodded. Aegon smiled at the man who had raised him for most of his life. The young man strode over to the stern of the ship, gazing out towards Westeros. He smiled as he made out Lannisport and Casterly Rock. This was his home, all of it. The seven kingdoms belonged to his family, and he intended to reclaim them. He had been raised to understand that ruling the kingdoms was his duty, rather than simply just his right, however, and he intended to fulfil that duty. Turing to the ship once more, he gazed down at the armour the Martells had gifted him with. The red dragon of his house had been painstakingly carved into the breastplate, and the golden company had adopted new arms in his honour, which he himself would also carry into battle. A red dragon on a golden field, unleashing silver fire; he smiled at the thought. For the first time in his life, now, as he approached the lands of his birth, Aegon Targaryen felt like a king.

Robb

The battle was now in full swing. They had fought their way into the main area of the fortress, he and Jon leading the way. Together the two Stark sons cut down dozens of Lefford soldiers, their soldiers following in their wake. The battle would not last much longer; the Leffords had left a garrison of about six hundred men to hold the castle, assuming that no one would risk marching on the Tooth. Eventually, the remaining soldiers through down their arms. The Stark, Tully and Alleryon bannermen raised their arms in triumph, shouting to the heavens. Robb beamed at them all, as he wrapped an around his brother's shoulders. They had lost a few hundred of their own men in taking the castle, but it had all been worth it in the end, to see the Stark Dire wolf and the banners of their Bannermen and Allies flying over the castle battlements. He turned to greet Alysanne Lefford, her mother and sisters were all brought before him. The heir to the tooth glared at him, Robb let loose a sigh as he strode over to her.

Eventually, he was able to convince her to surrender the castle and swear to bend the knee to Tyrion and Daeron. He turned to Jon, lord Umbar, and lady Mormont, signalling for them to join him for supper and a meeting in the lord's solar.

"We've won the Tooth, which will help us slow Tywin down if he decides to march back west, and now, once Daeron and Jason complete their own objectives, we'll be clear to march on the Rock itself," jon was saying, pointing to Crakehall, Ashemark, Tywin's army, which, as far as they knew, was still on the march towards Harrenhal, Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Robb nodded, once they took the capital, they could rescue Daenerys, and show the lords of the west they no longer needed to support Tywin out of fear. They could deal a major blow to house Lannister, and potentially even knock them out of the war. The campaign had gone well so far. They had received word that Jason Ainsworth had seized Silverhill, and, leaving a thousand men to hold the castle, had marched on to Crakehall.

Robb turned to the castle maester, handing him a raven scroll with his seal already emblazoned on it.

"Send this to King Daeron, will you Maester? He needs to know we'll be ready to march soon."

The maester nodded hurrying form the room. Robb turned his attention back to the others seated around the table with him, instructing them to get some sleep, with murmurings of 'your grace' and 'king in the north' from lord Umbar, they vacated the solar, leaving him to his own thoughts. After an hour of going over reports, Robb, yawning slightly, made to join them in their sleep.

Stannis

His brother was dead, and the Tyrells had fled, but it didn't matter. King's Landing was still a day's sail away, and still it didn't matter. It didn't really matter to him that ser Davos had cautioned him to wait either, to allow Daeron and Joffrey to weaken on another, than fight it out with whoever won. The red woman had assured him he would win a great victory, and he intended. Davos stood with him know, as they made their way to the capitol. He would take king's landing, sit the iron throne, and then nothing he had done to get there would matter.

Kevan

That night, he gave the order for another attack. They needed to seize the castle, before any more reinforcements Bethany had seen fit to pay for arrived and made their positon untenable. He lead the charge himself, spearheading his cavalry through the gates, in an effort to break through the spear wall of the unsullied and the wardens. For a while it worked, but eventually, they began to lose ground, being driven back to his own infantry lines. Horseman and spearman fought on together, side by side. The Lannister soldiers were determined to defeat their enemies, and return to Casterly Rock and Lannisport, to aid in defending against the attack which was sure to come. Kevan spotted Jaeherys, covered in armour, fighting his way towards him. His horse took a spear to the kneck, and he felt it give way underneath him, before it collapsed, bringing him rolling onto the stone courtyard. Picking himself up, Kevan met the lord of Castamere's stroke, deflecting it as best he could. He glared at the Alleryon traitor.

"Tywin should never have given you Castamere!" he hissed, glaring at him as he slung back at his opponent. Jaeherys laughed at him. Kevan's glare only intensified.

"And why is that, Ser Lannister? Jealous he gave it to me instead?" Jaeherys snorted at the other man, cutting him on his arm. Kevan hissed slightly, gritting his teeth through the pain. He snorted at the lord's mockery. Kevan had no reason to be jealous. He was his brother's most trusted ally and that was enough for him. It would always be enough for him. He told Jaeherys as such, who let out a laugh. Kevan glared at him, slashing at his belly. Jaeherys leaped back, grinning at Kevan as he lunged forwards once more.

"You know, ser Kevan, you and I aren't all that different. We're both second sons, unlikely to ever amount to much in the grand scheme of things. The only difference is what we do about it. I chose to better myself, and you were content to remain in your brother's shadow". Kevan slung his blade down on Jaeherys, intending to cleave his helm in two, only for the other man to raise a shield he had fished off a dead man's corpse. The shield splintered, Kevan's sword caught in the wood. He pulled, and the blade came loose, just as Jaeherys drove his own blade through his shoulder. He fell back, staggering slightly. Just then, a horn sounded from the coast. He tilted his head, listening. Jaeherys grinned, the look on his face leaving Kevan uneasy. Pushing the feeling aside, he lunged towards the lord of Castamere, determined to kill him and end the battle to face this new threat.

Jaeherys caught his blade with his own, kicking him in the knee. Kevan retaliated by driving his fist into his opponent's head. Jaeherys stumbled, and Kevan raised his sword to deliver the killing blow. Just then, he heard shouts from behind him, and turned to see what was happening. In charged thousands of soldiers, some bearing the sigils of Dornish houses, others golden arms inscribed with a gold dragon on a black field. At the head, a black helm with a three headed dragon on the head rode a young man with silver blonde hair about Daeron's age, sword raised over his head. Dread clutched at Kevan's heart as he realised who this was, and who the gold soldiers following him were. 'no,' he thought in desperation, praying to all the gods he was wrong, 'it couldn't be. We finished them in the war of the ninepenny kings –'suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in his back, and an arm wrapped almost tenderly around his chest. Gazing down, he saw, with horror, the blade of a sword sticking through his stomach from his back. With a sharp pain, he felt it wrenched from his body. Jaeherys' cold voice sounded in his ear.

"Long live the king". His vision dimming, Kevan felt his body collapse as he fell to his knees. He heard rather than saw Jaeherys walking away from him, and heard him let out a victory cry. All around, he could still see his fellow soldiers being massacred by the defenders and the newcomers. He lay back, his chest hit the ground, his legs trapped under his weight. A grinning Oberyn Martell strode over to him. He tasted copper in his mouth, and coughed blood. The Dornishman spat on him, and glared down on his dying form. He felt him drive his spear through his thigh, and heard his promise as he died.

"I will give my regards to your brother, Lannister."


	10. Chapter 9

9 – The battle for King's landing

Joffrey

He sneered at the page as he helped to strap on his armour. His uncle Stannis was coming and Joffrey would be sure to make him taste his sword. Ser Meryn Trant and the hound stood to the side, faithfully guarding their king. The battle would be short and glorious, with the rightful king to prove victorious. That was going to be Joffrey. He strode proudly from the room, making his way towards the throne room of the red keep. His grandfather had ignored his summons to come to the capitol to take his position as the king's hand, but that wasn't important. Joffrey would defeat Stannis, and then deal with Daeron and this 'Aegon Targaryen'. And then everyone in the seven kingdoms would know who their real king was. Trant and Clegane walked with him, each on one side. Trant was grinning at the thought of spilling the blood of Stannis' men. The hound maintained the same grim visage.

They stepped into the throne room, and Joffrey walked towards his mother and younger siblings. His mother looked slightly uneasy, he grinned at her, telling her not to worry. It would not be long before he defeated his father's brother, and turned his attention towards winning back the rest of his kingdom from the thieves who were now his enemies. She smiled almost condescendingly at him, and he glared at her. Instructing his younger siblings to say their goodbyes and wish him luck, she lead the young royals from the throne room. Spotting Sansa stark, Joffrey grinned sadistically at the girl, before leading his kingsguard knights over to her. The foolish girl curtsied when she spotted him, and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes at her antics. It would certainly be more entertaining if she had stood up for herself more often as she had done momentarily when he took her to view her father's head, adorned on the walls of king's landing. He sneered at her.

"You're just in time my lady; I'm on my way out to the battlements now". She curtsied once more, smiling slightly at him, although he could tell it was not sincere. He drew his sword showing it to her. He held it out before her, instructing her to kiss the blade. Once she had done so, he told her she would kiss it again when he returned, and taste his uncle's blood.

"So you will lead from the front then your grace? They say both Daeron and my brother Robb always lead from the front." He glared at her.

"A king doesn't have to discuss strategy with dumb girls," turning away from her, he gestured to his knights, and left the hall fuming. How dare that girl? Who did she think she was that she thought she could question the courage of a king? The girl had no right; Joffrey promised himself to enjoy her punishment after he had dealt with his uncle Stannis and this nuisance he had brought against them. They reached the battlements and Joffrey got his first real glimpse of his uncle's army and war fleet. He gazed out at the ships as they sailed towards the capitol. He turned to the man on the trebuchet, instructing them to load the already prepared pots of wildfire. They hastily yet carefully did as instructed, firing their loads once they were ready. The wildfire sailed through the air, before slamming into the lead ship. It exploded in a burst of flames, lighting up the night sky. Joffrey grinned at the sight. He turned to the archers on the wall.

"Prepare to fire once my uncle and his men come ashore. Light the oil as you do. "

The men nodded.

Stannis

He stared in shock as the lead ship exploded in a burst of fire. He heard the cries of his men, saw the looks of horror on their faces. He turned to the captain, ordering him to increase their speed. They needed to get ashore, closer to the walls. They needed to keep Joffrey's forces from destroying their fleet with wildfire. As they picked up speed, so did the rest of the fleet. He watched as the city loomed closer, and smiled despite himself. By daybreak, he, Stannis Baratheon would sit the iron throne, and be one step closer to winning this 'war of the five kings'. They were almost there, close to landing when it happened. Joffrey, ever the fool, had ordered his men to load more wildfire. There was an explosion within the walls, and a large portion collapsed. Stannis smiled grimly. At least now they had an easy access point to the city, he thought sardonically. As the ship reached land, he rallied his men, charging towards the breach in the walls.

Archers rained fire down on them, whilst men inside the city struggled to put out the fires their king had inadvertently started. Eventually they reached the city walls, Stannis taking care to avoid the flames as he stabbed his sword through one of the soldier's throats. The men pushed through, chasing the fleeing Lannisters through the city. Fire raged through the yard, spreading from building to building where it could. Stannis groaned slightly as he cut down another fleeing man. Thanks to his nephew, he would have to rebuild quite a few buildings after he assumed his throne. Glancing around, he spotted his nephew abandoning the battle, the hound was also nowhere to be seen. With their king and his kingsguard knights gone, the soldiers spent less time fighting, and more time retreating. Within half an hour, they had secured the area. Leaving men to fight the blaze before it could take root across the rest of the city; Stannis lead the rest of his army after Joffrey and the survivors. They were heading towards the safety of the red keep. Stannis turned to ser Davos, who, having secured horses for the both of t hem, was riding beside him. He turned to the knight, shouting over the sounds of the men and horses.

"Take some men, and bring me whatever you can find in the way of siege equipment. Strip it off of the ships if you have too. If we want to take this city and the iron throne, we're going to have to assault the red keep. We don't have time for a siege". Davos nodded, and rode off to carry out his king's orders.

The red keep loomed over him. The Lannisters had by now done all they could to seal the keep off from the rest of the city. Archers fired down on his soldiers, Stannis gave them the order to take refuge from the fire. He glanced around, looking around for some way to take the keep. They needed a quick way in, to secure the throne before Tywin Lannister and his army arrived, potentially with tyrell support. They could not afford to fight a battle on two fronts. Joffrey had made things easier for them by destroying the wall near the mud gate, but the red keep was still a fortress had sent with him had returned. They had fashioned a ram from one of the long boats, and several men. He turned around as he heard a shout from behind him. Ser Davos and the men he had sent off for siege equipment had returned, carrying a ram and two ballistae from the ship. Stannis nodded as the onion knight rode up to him. He turned to ser Davos, inquiring as to the ladders they had brought with them to scale the walls. Davos pointed behind them, and Stannis turned to see several men dragging the ladders towards them. He nodded, patting the onion knight on the shoulder. The ram was brought forwards; Ballistae were loaded, and launched towards the walls. Lannister Soldiers lined up along the curtain walls, prepared for a fight. This time, there was no wildfire with them. Joffrey could not be seen either. The battle for the red keep had begun.

Tywin

They had been marching for hours, ever since they had secured Harrenhal against Roose Bolton. Bolton had escaped, along with two thousand men, but they had taken the castle. No sooner had he settled down to prepare to reorganise his host and give the men their duties, than a messenger had stumbled into the castle, bringing ill news. Not only was Daeron poised to take Lannisport and Casterly Rock, but his brother was dead, and he had another would be Targaryen conqueror to contend with, in the form of this so called Aegon Targaryen. They had been making preparations to march west and fight the two Targaryen descendants when word reached them that Stannis had reached king's landing. With all haste, Tywin had made his decision. He had started this war to free his son, who had repaid him with treachery. In order to defend his legacy, he would have to pin all his hopes on Joffrey. For that, they could not afford to lose the iron throne. They were Lannisters, they would stand and fight. By now, they were nearing the capital. It would not be long before they reached the city, and brought the fight to Stannis Baratheon. Then he could avenge his brother and defend his home. He just hoped Joffrey didn't do anything stupid to lose the throne before they arrived.

Bethany

She and Aegon had negotiated and argued for hours, before agreeing on the terms of their alliance. The Westerlands would be granted to Oberyn Martell, in recognition for Martell support for Aegon during the war, and repayment of the Lannisters' debts to house Martell. In return for supporting his claim, and joining her forces with that of his, Aegon would wed Bethany. Her uncle was right, this was the best way forwards, she realised. Not only did it give her a secure foothold to fight her brother and the Lannisters, but by winning his support this way, she ensured she would still be queen. She would just have to accept being _Aegon's_ queen. She could live with that though. For everything her support could give him for his cause, Aegon would be incredibly grateful to her for her aid.

She watched as her men brought forward her father's wife. They threw her to the ground before her and her new betrothed. The Dornish prince Aegon had brought with him sneered down at Ceryse. The two women glared at one another. Bethany turned to regard Aegon. He simply stared straight into Ceryse's eyes, ignoring both she and prince Oberyn. Finally, as he stepped towards the Lannister woman, he spoke. His voice was calm, and he carried himself like a king, walking confidently.

"You are Lady Ceryse Lannister, daughter and oldest child of Tywin Lannister, are you not? He asked rhetorically, as he continued to walk around Ceryse, regarding her almost casually. Bethany had to refrain from rolling her eyes at his antics; he was acting like he was escorting her to a ball, not deciding whether or not she should be executed. Ceryse nodded, glaring between Bethany and Aegon. If the young king noticed her expression, he did not show it. "And you are the mother of the traitor, Daeron Alleryon. This is also true, is it not my lady?" Ceryse turned her glare solely on him now, and pulled herself to her feet. Staring coldly into his eyes, she began to speak.

"Listen to me, and listen well _your grace_ ," she began, sneering at him in that way that all Lannisters seemed to share. The soldiers stepped forward to restrain her, though Aegon moved to stop them. Bethany stared at her in shock. Surely she had to realise that insulting Aegon at this point could mean her death. And yet, she persisted, showing the infamous lack of respect her father's house had become known for, " I don't know if you're a Targaryen or a Blackfyre, and frankly I don't care. But let's get one thing straight. My son is no traitor, Joffrey murdered his father, and he and _my_ father immediately started hunting and persecuting him because she," here she nodded towards Bethany, who rolled her eyes and snorted at the other woman, "betrayed her own kin. If you want to kill me, then get on with it. But know this; house Alleryon will not stand by while some foreigner who sewed some dragons together and called himself 'Targaryen' tears our family – and our country – to pieces."

Daeron smiled slightly at the older woman. Bethany glanced warily towards him, wondering what he intended to do. Beside her, Oberyn Martell grinned nastily at Ceryse. Clearly, he believed she had just damned herself with her speech. Bethany had to admit, it seemed likely. Aegon chuckled.

"I won't be killing you today, Lady Alleryon. Either way, the way I look at it at least, whoever remains standing after your son and your father have finished tearing each other apart, you're a valuable hostage."

Bethany turned to the guards who had escorted her to the hall.

"Escort Lady Ceryse back to her chambers. His grace is finished with her now."

The soldiers glanced between Bethany and Aegon. She glared at them, these soldiers were sworn to house Alleryon; they were sworn to her. Aegon nodded slightly, and they turned and lead her stepmother from the hall. Aegon turned to regard her. He dismissed Oberyn Martell from the hall, before turning back to her.

"You do not command her anymore. I am the dragon, and you will follow my rule!"

As he turned and stormed from the hall after his Martell lapdog, only one thought flashed through Bethany's head.

He may be a Targaryen, after all.

Joffrey

He turned to glare at Meryn Trant. They had been forced to fall back to the red keep, and Stannis had amassed his forces outside the keep itself. There was no way his uncle would risk a protracted siege. He would assult the red keep with all he had, determined to take it before help arrived to liberate the capitol. They had to choices; they could hold out in the keep and wait for him to fight his way to them, or lead a sortie out against him. Joffrey knew what he planned to do. If he remained behind the walls of the keep, even if he defeated his uncle, he would always have to live with it. The people would always see him as a coward. Better to defeat Stannis in battle before the walls of the keep, and win the great victory that was awaiting him. He turned to his soldiers, readying heart eater. He drew it, waving it at the soldiers in the throne room.

"I am your king, and I command – no demand – that you fight with me. Show Stannis and his dogs why I am not just your king, but why I am THE KING! Now with me, and I will defeat my uncle and save this city from him!" there were murmurings among the men, murmurings that Joffrey was insane, that it was his fault the wildfire had almost destroyed the entire city. The men were quickly silenced by ser Meryn stepping forward protectively, hand on the hilt of his sword. Joffrey smirked as his guard forced the rabble down. He turned to Lord Slynt.

"Lord Slynt, you will join ser Meryn and myself in leading the sortie."

The lickspittle lord nodded eagerly, determined to prove himself and win more royal favours. Glancing around the throne Room, Joffrey suddenly realised who was not there. He turned to ser Meryn, enraged.

"Where is the hound?! Dog, I command you to get back out here and fight with us!" there was no reply. With a sinking feeling, Joffrey realised he was on his own. The hound was gone. Never mind, the young king thought to himself that just meant there would be more glory for him. The hound could be a coward and run all he liked, but Joffrey would not. He would face Stannis, and he would win.

Joffrey sat high in the saddle, preparing to charge through the gates with the rest of the cavalry. Infantry lines stood around them, and archers took position behind them in the yard, and along the walls. The gates opened. The cavalry rode forwards, the thunder of hooves ringing in his ears. He let out a warcry, prepared to cut down his uncle's treasonous soldiers. All around him, his soldiers cut, hacked and slashed at the enemy. He slung his sword, missing the soldier he had been intending to hit with the weapon. Several more swings missed, and Joffrey found himself wishing he had brought his crossbow. That was his last thought before he felt his horse stumble underneath him, and the beast collapsed, legs cut out from under it. He hit the ground, and, us Baratheon soldiers closed in around him, spear tips pointed towards his person, he felt a wetness.

Stannis

They were planning to bring the ladders and ram forwards when the gates creaked. Stannis stopped and stared. He glanced at ser Davos, who seemed to be as confused as he was. Archers lined up along the walls, releasing a volley into his men. He shouted to them to raise their shields and form a loose formation. Davos bellowed at the men to get the ladders into position and take the walls. The gates opened, and Joffrey came riding out, sword held out ridiculously in front of him. Stannis could not believe his own luck. His foolish nephew had played into his hands. He ordered his men to take up positions further from the walls and prepare for the charge. He watched, almost amused, as Joffrey tried to harm his men, swatting at empty air with his sword. Within moments, the bastard had been captured, and the cavalry had been routed or killed. He signalled for his men to charge towards the infantry who had just followed through the gates. The two armies fought fiercely for control of the gatehouse, both sides refusing to give up. Still, archers rained arrows down onto the men. By now they were starting to hit their own, and Stannis' army was driving further into the keep. He rode forwards, Davos beside him as they pushed into the keep. He could smell his victory. He hacked and slashed, cutting down Joffrey's soldiers with well-practiced swings of his sword. Beside him the former smuggler fought just as hard. As they pushed through further, and rumours of Joffrey's capture or death went up amongst the enemy, the Lannister soldiers threw down their weapons. The battle for king's landing was over, and Stannis had taken the capital.

He turned to Davos, instructing him to get their own archers to take positions along the walls, and to bring the ladders inside, as well as the ram. Davos turned to look at him, confusion etched on his features.

"Your grace, the battle is over, is it not?"

"Indeed it is, ser Davos," Stannis replied, nodding to the onion knight.

"Then, forgive me your grace, why does it feel like we're preparing to fight again?"

"Because, ser Davos, you can rest assured Tywin Lannister won't let this stand. He'll be on his way to King's landing, if he isn't here already. Raise the banners over the keep, take command of the city watch, and get ready for a fight, ser Davos. Lannister's coming our way. And he means to save his king". Davos nodded, ordering the soldiers to escort Slynt to a secure location. Stannis turned to the soldiers of king's Landing.

"Alright, listen up. You fought bravely for Joffrey to keep me out, and he almost burnt this city – your city – to the ground. If I defeat Tywin Lannister, and hold this city, you all get to go home to your families. If he wins the battle though, it will be like the last time the Lannisters sacked King's landing, and he _will_ butcher everyone in this courtyard, without discrimination. The only ones spared will be Lannister soldiers, and there are none of them left here now. You all knew my Brother, you know my house. Fight for me, and we can all go home to our families. Save your city and your loved ones, crownlanders!"

The soldiers raised their weapons in the air, and a great cheer went up amongst them.

"Baratheon, Baratheon, Baratheon!"

Tywin

They rode past the mud gate, staring at the damage to the wall. Tywin turned to a captured Baratheon soldier who had been using a bucket to put out a now dead blaze.

"What happened here?" the lord of the west demanded, glaring down at the commoner. The man spoke, and what he said shocked the Lannister lord to the core.

"Wildfire milord, king Joffrey used it to try keeping us out. They dropped it, near as we can tell. Blew a hole in the wall and damn near spread over the entire city". Tywin nodded, dismissing the man. He turned to his second in command.

"Stannis will be assaulting the red keep by now. If we hurry, we can cut him off and hit him in the rear. Just pray that wildfire was the full extent of his grace's follies". The other man nodded, giving the order to double the pace. They arrived before the gates of the red keep, which had been sealed shut. Before the gates, spears lowered in a defensive formation, stood thousands upon thousands of Baratheon soldiers. Archers along the walls loosed volley after volley into their ranks. Several arrows bounced off of Tywin's armour. At the sight of the waiting thicket of spears, he groaned; most of his army were horsed, to slam into the rear and flanks of the enemy army. He was ill prepared for such a battle. His only hope was for Stannis' defences to break. He gave the order for the men to charge, and pushed his own mount forwards.

He felt himself jarred in the saddle as they slammed into the spearmen. Tywin cut swathes through the enemy, riding through as best he could. Around him, his men were killed by the enemy spears, and there seemed to be no end to Stannis' men. A spear slid through his armour, and then another. As blood ran through his armour, soaking it crimson, he felt himself begin to lose consciousness, falling from the saddle. He felt himself being seized, and knew no more.

Stannis

For all Robert's faults, his older brother had been right in one thing; the iron throne was not comfortable. He sat upon the throne as Davos, the new hand of the king, read out the next issue. Varys, Robert's master of whispers, was dragged before him. He glanced over Varys, cold eyes taking in the powdered eunuch. He turned to Davos, a discrete nod. Davos read the charges, and Varys was taken from the hall to await execution. He had already passed the same judgement on Janos Slynt and Little finger. They would need a new small council, by the time he was finished. Next up came Cersei Lannister and her children. Stannis stood from his throne to address the court, he wanted everyone to hear this, and understand;

"Cersei Lannister, for the crimes of treason and adultery, you are hereby sentenced to die, by the king's law, in sight of gods and men," the blonde woman glared at him. She rushed forwards, raising a knife as she did. Before anyone could react, he had knocked the knife from her hand, and rapped his own hands around her throat. He held them there for several moments before he felt her stop struggling, and finally still. Letting her body fall to the floor, he turned to her children.

"Joffrey and Tommen Waters, I sentence you both to die, in the sight of gods and men," he smiled slightly as Joffrey howled like a mad animal, and his brother clutched desperately to his leg, even as Joffrey kicked him off. His men had reported that, when they captured Joffrey last night during the battle, it had been 'in a puddle of his own making'. Whilst he felt no ill will towards Tommen, he knew the boy might be used to ferment rebellion. He turned lastly to Myrcella.

"Myrcella Waters, I hereby sentence you to remain in king's landing, as a ward to the iron throne. You will not leave the red keep, under pain of death". Her fate would be the same as Sansa Stark. Perhaps he could find some way to bargain with the princess. Now, he needed to decide what to do with Tywin Lannister. The surviving Lannister soldiers had been put to death, rather than risk them escaping, and regrouping with Lannister forces in the west. Stannis was no fool, he knew his victory meant little unless he could secure all seven kingdoms. The best way to do that was to allow Daeron Alleryon and the boy calling himself Aegon Targaryen weaken each other for him. In the meantime, he would have ravens sent to the vale and the Iron Islands. The war was far from over, and he would need supporters.

 **A/N:** I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. All I can really do is hope you don't hate it too much. Up next is the battle for Casterly Rock, which might be split into two parts. What should happen to Tywin? Who do you want to win the Westerlands? Daeron, or Aegon?


	11. Chapter 10

10 – Battle for the rock

Ceryse

Her nights were growing increasingly restless. At times, it would be thoughts of her children keeping her up. At others, the death of her uncle kept her awake. When she did sleep, it was briefly, and troubled. Recurring nightmares kept her awake. They came so often now, that the visions refused to leave her alone. She saw them every time she closed her eye, even when she was awake. Her dead husband's cold, lifeless eyes glared out at her. He opened his dead mouth, cold lips trembling, and let out a howling scream. Laughing harshly, he hissed at her, in a cold voice not his own. His lilac eyes flashed blue for a terrifying moment.

"It's your fault I'm gone. You should have stopped the boy from spending time with Tyrion." She always shook her head, wishing she could reach out and hold him, begging for his forgiveness. Maybe it was her fault, she had begun to muse. If she had kept Daeron from developing such a close relationship with Tyrion, John wouldn't have been in King's landing. After John, there was always Lucarion. He merely glared at her, tear tracks running down his face. He clutched a dead Rhaenyra to his chest, and turned and left her. The first time she had seen them, blood running from her baby girl's mouth, she had let out a terrified scream, waking up the entire castle. That had led to painful 're-education'. Her youngest son and daughter were replaced by Oberyn, promising pain for all Lannisters. Next, the Martell gave way to Melissa's voice.

"Bethany never would have betrayed our family. It's because of you, Ceryse. You and your son, with his ridiculous ideals." The voice disappeared, and, despite herself, she felt hot anger rising from her core towards her oldest. Melissa was right, she found herself thinking. Everything that had happened to this family _was_ because of Daeron. The boy had always been rash and impetuous. That thought had brought her to tears, and she had whispered over and over for her boy to forgive her. The last had been Daeron himself. He had been standing proudly straight ahead, staring at something she couldn't see. They stood in the red keep throne room. Lords stood all around them, and the high Septon stood before her son. He smiled nervously towards her. She watched as the Ceryse in the dream hugged the boy tightly, whispering softly in his ear. Although she could not hear the happy pair, she somehow knew what was being said.

"I'm so proud of you, and I know this is what you've wanted for so long, my baby boy". Dream-Daeron beamed back, relaxing into her embrace. He glanced over dream-Ceryse's shoulder, and, seeing what he had been waiting for, he released her, smiling towards the throne room doors. She followed her dear boy's gaze, taking in the sight of a beautiful, radiant young woman walking towards the three on the dais. She could see the intense emotions blazing in her son's eyes, and, despite herself, it always made her smile. She couldn't see the girl's face, but somehow, she got the feeling that her son's joy wasn't one-sided. Then, as soon as it had been given to him, Daeron's happiness and hope was dashed, as it always was in the dreams. Two figures stepped forwards from the crowd; her father and Bethany. The girl sneered at her brother, as Tywin seized the other young woman. Daeron tried to rush forward, held back as he was by a kingsguard who had transformed into Aegon.

Bethany, her face flickering between that of the young Alleryon and Ceryse's own, spoke coldly to her brother. Her voice was sharp. "You took away our victory. Now, baby brother, watch, as I take away your hope!" then, even as her brother screamed out in his agony, begging for her to take him instead, she drove the dagger forwards, piercing the other woman's heart. When she turned around, as it had been every other time, the face sneering at Daeron and Ceryse was her own. Her son glared harshly, strangling the life from Aegon 'Targaryen'. Ceryse-Bethany and Tywin vanished in a veil of black and crimson smoke, even as Daeron ran towards where they had been standing moments before. He cradled the dying girl in his arms, tears streaming freely down his face.

"Please, gods no. not this, never this! Don't take her away from me. I can't do this without her," the visions always faded there, but she still heard her son's last, almost bitter sounding words, "I love her". That had been the worst of it all. What had been the most painful, had scared her the most, was not the death itself, but Daeron's reaction to it. She had never seen her son react with such visceral emotion. Somehow, she knew, that if he ever truly loved someone that much, and lost her, he would be worse than Joffrey. Worse even than her father after her mother's death. Every house in Westeros would feel the same fate as the Reynes of Castamere. She prayed what she had seen never came to pass. She never wanted to fear her son again.

Soldiers strode into her chambers, signalling for her to follow them. Sighing, ready for it all to be over, she did as she was bid. She needed to rid her mind of such thoughts, she knew. Her daughters still had need of her.

Stannis

He glared at the parchment in Ser Davos' hands, as if it had affronted him personally. The king's hand stared imploringly at him, desperate for him to take it. Considering the raven scroll for a few moments, he snatched it from the other man's hands. He read over Daeron Alleryon's words, forced to admit to both the boy's point, and his eloquence.

 _To Stannis Baratheon, lord of Dragonstone, and rightful lord of Storm's end_

 _Lord Stannis, or - as you prefer to be known- your grace; I know that the two of us are enemies, and you have no interest in my words. However, I know you to be a man of honour, justice and duty, as was my lord father. In this vein, I ask, in show of good faith, that you consent to send his remains – such as they are – to Riverrun. I would consider it a personal favour, and my siblings and I would thank you for the chance to cremate my father in the way of our Valyrian ancestors._

 _Daeron Alleryon, third of his name, lord of house Alleryon and rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men_

Stannis stared at the parchment. The boy had presented his case well and there was no reason not to give Alleryon what he had asked for. He made no move to reject his hand's notion. Seeing this, Ser Davos stepped forwards slightly as he glanced at him almost nervously. The knight seemed to choose his next words with care, as he had previously suggested to the other man.

"Your grace," he began, his usual bravado returning as he found his footing once more, "surely there's nothing wrong to be said for giving the boy his father's corpse. The man did you know wrong, as far as I can see". This incurred Stannis' rage, and he turned to glare stonily at his hand. Davos stood his ground, and Stannis was once again forced to begrudgingly respect him.

"Done me no wrong," the king spat at the onion knight as his glare intensified, "need I remind you his last words were treasonous? He declared his son to have a right to the throne! To my throne, which I paid for in blood! What has Daeron Alleryon ever done to earn that seat?" Stannis gestured to the iron throne over his shoulder and tossed the note away turning his attention entirely towards his once loyal banner man as he did so. As usual the knight hardly seemed impressed by his king's tone or the look on his face.

"Your grace, it may well indeed be true that he declared his son to be the rightful heir. But he did what he thought was best for his family at the time. He knows the best way for his children to survive is for them to _take_ that seat. And I have to believe you aren't the only honourable high lord in Westeros, your grace. Now here there's a high lord showing just that, and you won't even consider repaying him in kind. Now forgive me your grace – I'm not a learned man and I haven't been a lord for wrong. But it seems to me, if a traitor lord is willing to show respect to an enemy, and the lord of the seven kingdoms _isn't_ it doesn't say much good for the king". Stannis glanced at the crumpled up piece of parchment, than back at his hand. He nodded warily, turning his attention towards the throne; he fell heavily into its embrace.

"Have the maester sew his father's head back onto the body, and have it sent to Riverrun for him. Your right, the least I can do is to show my enemy some respect. I'll let them burn the body; gods know I would have wanted the same thing". Davos smiled respectfully and bowed his head. The onion knight turned from the room to carry out the orders and left Stannis to his thoughts. What was happening to him, that he would so easily forget his honour? He didn't want to admit it but it had all started with the arrival of the red woman. He sighed, determined to decide the best course on that front later. For now he held a dangerous lord of the west in the black cells below his feet. He needed to decide what he was going to do with him. Executing him would certainly send a message but it might send the wrong one to his own bannermen. Most of them despised him for what he had done to his brother. He knew it and they knew it. Killing a powerful lord might shake their confidence further, with the idea they could be next up to the block having to be a real possibility in their minds. Sending such a dangerous man off to the wall would not be far enough. The best bet might be to send him as far from the realm as possible although he wasn't sure whether Essos was such a good idea either. He would have to think of something to do with him, and soon.

Tobias

The ride to the golden tooth was a solemn one. All the men knew that they would soon be riding for battle once more; none knew if they would be riding to their deaths. Tobias had been forced to become a man on the battlefield. He had learned much during their campaign for the Westerlands. Seeing soldiers dying around him had taught him that there was little glory in war. Daeron's disastrous initial command had taught him not to trust without question. In short war had become his nurse maid, teaching him vital lessons. in the end, their campaign in the south had petered out rather without much excitement, he had thought; although he was no longer ungrateful for that fact. Upon their arrival at Crakehall, they had found the banners already struck. The garrison had surrendered without a fight, and handed their lords over to them, already bound. The commander of the force had stated his lack of interest in commiting more of his men to die for a lost cause. Especially after Stannis had imprisoned lord Tywin and executed their bastard 'king' in taking the capitol. The capture of the old lion and the death of his grandson had been music to their ears, although they were sorely grieved to learn the capitol had been seized. Now, they were making haste to join their force to those of Robb and Daeron, who had completed their own tasks, and were now waiting to march on the rock itself.

Tobias smiled at the thought. Soon, they would, gods willing, achieve that which no army in living memory had managed; the fall of Casterly Rock. More importantly they would eliminate house Lannister, and thereby take one step closer to placing Daeron on the iron throne and ending the war. He would be grateful for the chance to catch a break after the constant warring. It did not feel good to watch men fight and die any more, although he still took some pleasure from the fall of his enemies as he knew it meant they were closer to their desired victory as each one fell or surrendered. And now, they had a real chance of securing a major victory. The thought swelled his heart as he rode beside his father.

He wondered if the older man ever felt disillusioned with what they must do, but he was unsure of how to ask him. Considering everything he knew of his father he doubted it. Jason Ainsworth was a man of duty. His father had long served John Alleryon faithfully in all matters, mostly of a military vein. Now, with John's death, he had transferred that unwavering loyalty to Tobias' best friend. Growing up, Daeron had been everything Tobias had aspired to be. He had revered his friend's achievements at Casterly Rock against the Greyjoys. Now that he had seen combat first hand, and witnessed the mistakes his king was capable of making, Tobias had changed his mind. He still admired Daeron, although he would never again take his abilities – or faults – for granted. They were still best friends, but Tobias knew he no longer envied his friend. He would never want a crown for himself. It seemed a terrible burden. The idea of warfare no longer appealed to him either, and he wondered if Daer still felt excitement when he fought. Somehow, just as he doubted his father felt wary of war, he doubted Daeron took pleasure from it. That had never been the other boy's way. Daeron would approach the war with as little feeling as possible, so as to avoid falling into the trap of letting the horror consume him. Tobias just hoped his friend would come out of it with his honour and sense of empathy in tact.

His father turned to smile at him, and Tobias felt pride swell inside of his chest. His father nodded, and turned his head back towards the front. After a moment, he spoke and Tobias felt shock at the honesty his father offered. "you know," he stated plainly, smiling with a wariness he had never seen on Jason's usual calm – even cold – features, " I always hoped you'd never have to experience this butcher's work. War that is," he explained further at his son's strange look. Tobi nodded to show he was still listening. Turning his head back towards him, his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

"That does not mean I am not proud of you. You have acquitted yourself with honour son, and you fought bravely. You can be proud of the effort you have applied". Tobias Ainsworth stared in shock after his father as the older man rode on ahead. Shrugging, he grinned as he realised that things didn't always have to be as he assumed. He wondered what other surprises there might be ahead.

Lucarion

They had arrived back at the Golden Tooth a few days before hand. Lucarion had done his best to avoid his brother in that time. It wasn't out of fear, or even grief. He was angry with Daeron, for his mishandling of the battle with Tywin. He had cost them thousands of men, and almost cost them all their lives. From what he had heard, the other Alleryon had been prepared to pay just that for his victory. No for his glory. It was disgusting, as far as he was concerned. And the worst part was that Tyrion – their uncle who always made sure his own siblings knew when they were wrong, had stood by him. None of it made sense to him. Although, he mused bitterly to himself, it made a certain sick kind of sense. His brother had always been treated like a god. He had heard the whisperings for years. They all said he was some great hero. Aegon the conqueror, reborn again n the modern age. The whispering had only gotten worse after he lamed Victarion Greyjoy. For a long time he had hated his older sibling growing up. The younger Alleryon brother, sighed to himself. He knew a large part of his hate had been born of jealousy. With his Lannister eye colour and younger Lucarion had never received as much praise and adulation. He had always lived in the other boy's shadow. Lucarion had thought they might have found common ground when the one man they both respected had died. But now, his hate was born of something far more pressing. No one seemed yet to realise what was really at stake. His father was dead, it was true. But his mother and younger sisters were not.

Ceryse and the twins yet lived. But if Daeron kept taking risks like that, they wouldn't be. He glared out over the battlements. He had no intention of losing his mother so his older sibling could play hero on the front. At least Tywin could no longer humiliate him for his ego. The news that the Lannister army had fallen in the east had inspired celebration amongst the Stark bannermen. This had been eclipsed only by the announcement of Joffrey's death and grandfather's capture by Stannis' forces. Lucarion himself wasn't sure how he should feel about that. Half of his family tree were Lannisters after all. The Half Daer and even Tyrion seemed to have forgotten. And, more importantly, their mother was Tywin's daughter and aunt Cersei's sister. How would she feel about her sister's death? Did anyone else really care? He supposed it didn't really matter to them. All his brother and Robb Stark seemed concerned with was the upcoming siege and whether or not to send Stannis a gft along with the praise they were showering on him.

He avenged your father, a voice in the back of the boy's head sounded. Lucarion sighed, pushing it down. He knew Stannis hadn't been fighting to take the iron throne for John's sake. That, he mused, was what he and Daer were now united in. though, now, he even found himself wondering about that. After all, Lucarion knew, their father was dead. He had been avenged, although not by them. And still, his brother had given no sign that he intended to put aside his crown. A crown you wanted him to take up, the same rebellious inner voice reminded him once more. The heir to house Alleryon snorted bitterly. Whatever the case, and whatever they had started it for, it was now clear that the brothers were fighting this war for entirely different purposes.

All he wanted now his father's killer had been brought to justice was to get his mother and siblings back. Melissa and Daeron did not seem to understand that. Melissa he was hardly surprised at. She was not Ceryse's child. It was his brother he found repulsive. All he cared about was Daenerys. He had shown no concern for anyone else. It was a noble cause of course. Lucarion loved his foster sister but he just wished the others would acknowledge that their own blood relations existed, and were perhaps more important than she. Of course he could understand his brother's urgency; Daer, he felt sure, was still hoping his 'little dragon' would decide to embrace her own heritage, and unleash her fire and blood. There was still a part of his brother, he knew deep down, did not want to be king. A part of Daeron that would do anything to avoid the iron throne. Even sacrifice the girl that – for as long as Lucarion could remember – the oldest of John and Ceryse's children had seen more as a sibling than Lucarion himself. That stung more than anything else. After all there had been a time, long ago now, when he had unconditionally loved his older sibling. He remembered watching from the side lines as Daer and Dany played together. Remembered the resentment he felt towards her – towards them both – take root. He sneered bitterly. Whether she had intended to or not, Daenerys had taken all his brother's time, and inevitably made Lucarion hate him because of it.

He glanced down as he saw the third host approaching the walls. Sighing, the young heir turned and made his way back into the castle. They would be on the march soon enough.

Tyrion

The hand of the king snorted to himself as he watched the commanders riding ahead. Lucarion was still arguing against the plan, which had been devised by Robb and Daeron, improved by Tyrion's knowledge of the castle, and approved of by the rest. The boy was acting like a petulant child, and reminding him eerily of Joffrey. He didn't like the thought of that. They needed to stand together, now more than ever. And Daeron and Lucarion's personal conflict threatened to tear them all apart. And then where would his sister and nieces be? That was also a problem they would have to deal with, and soon Tyrion mused. During the strategy meet, Lucarion had blatantly accused Daeron of "forgetting who his real family were" in his "ridiculous obsession with rescuing that Targaryen bitch" he "seemed to love more than his own blood". Tyrion had slapped the younger Alleryon across the cheek, and it had taken the combined efforts of Jon, Robb, Edmure, Jason and Tobias to hold Daeron back from opening his brother's throat. Tyrion was genuinely concerned one of his nephews would meet with an 'accident' on the field. For now, he noted gratefully, the two ignored each other.

He knew that wouldn't last however; the two were both as stubborn as any of their Alleryon forbears, and, like Tyrion's own father, Daeron was brutal when challenged or insulted. Lucarion was more subtle, usually allowing his hate to fester. Tyrion was no fool; he knew that was what this spat was about. Lucarion hated Daenerys, for taking his brother. More importantly he hated said brother for letting her do it. They were in a delicate situation at the moment, and someone needed to address it. Tyrion carefully rode over to Lucarion's side coming to a halt before the boy. His nephew's green eyes pierced his own mismatched ones, and the boy snorted before turning away from him. Tyrion sighed at the petulance of children. Had he ever behaved like this?

"I'm sorry I hit you".

The boy grunted but otherwise ignored him. Tyrion rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was getting tired of having to deal with Lucarion and Daeron's attitudes. He glared at Lucarion, then at the older boy, who had glanced in their direction briefly before ignoring them once more. He turned back to his younger nephew, placing a hand gently on his arm. Lucarion turned to regard him once more. Tyrion smiled. At least one of them would listen to him still. "Tell me what's bothering you", he implored the young man. Lucarion sneered once more and shrugged the hand off. Tyrion clutched his horse tighter to avoid falling.

"you should know, Tyrion. You and 'his grace' refuse to even acknowledge my mother". Tyrion glared at the boy, and felt a strong desire to strike him once more. Ceryse was – apart from Jaime – the only one amongst his immediate family to treat him with any kindness. Learning she had been taken had felt like losing a part of himself. He had devised all sorts of deserving punishment for Bethany and her co-conspirators since he had discovered the treason. And to have this impudent cub suggest he didn't care had been worse than anything he had been forced to endure from Cersei and her brood. He sneered back at the boy

"Listen, Alleryon. Ceryse was my older sister a long time before she was your mother. If you want to behave like a petulant little bastard, that's fine. But I _will_ get my sister back. Mark my words on that, boy", as usual, Lucarion remained silent as Tyrion turned to ride away. The dwarf paused to regard his nephew once more. "and I was wrong; I'm not sorry I hit you". He didn't bother waiting to see what the boy would say to that. Instead he rode over to Daeron and Jon. Seeing him approach, the two manoeuvred their mounts so that he could ride between them. The Lannister smiled at his nephew and the northern bastard. Daeron glanced at him, lines under his eyes.

"trouble with Luc?" he asked his uncle warily. Tyrion snorted almost derisively at his nephew's question In response, Daeron rose an eye brow. Tyrion sighed, glancing over at the young man in question before addressing his nephew's question. "that depends my dear boy," he began, shifting his weight in an effort to get comfortable, "if you consider the fact your brother hates us both and thinks we abandoned your mother as 'trouble'. If not, than no. we have no trouble with him". Tyrion watched as Daeron, glaring at his brother, rode over towards him. Something was said between the two brothers. Without much warning, Daeron drove his fist into his brother's jaw, sending him sprawling from the saddle. Tyrion and Jon glanced at one another in shock. The king rode back towards Tyrion's side, glancing offhandedly at the blood on his glove.

"waste of good leather", his nephew muttered, before pulling the glove off. He tossed it aside, and ignored their questioning glances. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"I told him to grow up and get over himself. Reminded him he wasn't the only one who cared about our mother. Tried telling him we'd get her back. The little shit turned around and said all I cared about was 'the dragon bitch'. So I hit him". Glancing at one another once more, Tyrion and Jon winced. The worse mistakes anyone could make with Daeron were to question his love for family, and insult Dany. Tyrion mused, almost impressed, by Lucarion's ability to make them both in one mistake. The boy's determination to drive his brother to violence seemed unbreakable at this stage. He couldn't help but admire the boy's belligerence. But now, he needed to push such thoughts aside. After a long ride, they were here. Casterly Rock loomed before them.

Daeron

They were met by a party from Lannisport, lead by Kevan's second son, Martyn. Daeron had met his cousin a few times, and found the Lannister boy to be amicable. Although, now, he supposed that was only because he had been heir to the truly gargantuan fortress which loomed before them. With Martyn were several soldiers and a Maester. The Lannister stared at Daeron and his companions. With him he had brought Jon, Edmure, Rob and his uncle. The boy spoke, though he had no doubt it was the maester's words. No Lannister would be prepared to hear terms, after all.

"King Daeron. Although you are a traitor, I would hear what you have to say. Choose your words carefully". Daeron couldn't help but his kinsman's attempt to be intimidating amusing. Glancing subtly at the chained man by his cousin's side, he nodded. Spurring his horse forwards to get closer, he gestured to Casterly Rock.

"My terms are thus: that fortress. You will surrender it to me, and swear fealty to your rightful liege, my uncle, Tyrion Lannister. My foster-sister, Daenerys, will be returned to me without question. Do this, and I will grant you Lannisport. But if you fail to heed my terms, than I will put Lannisport to the sword. I will crush your garrison, small as it is, and force you to submit. Think carefully cousin. The fates of every Lannister in Casterly Rock and Lannisport rest in your hands". Glancing at the maester, who was still considering the terms, Martyn rode forward. He glared at Daeron coldly.

"your sister and her Blackfyre pretender murdered my father. Here are _my_ terms traitor. Bend the knee to me, in the name of your king, Joffrey of the houses Lannister and Baratheon, and I might speak for you when my uncle Tywin returns from the capital. As for the Targaryen princess; she shall remain here, under our protection, to ensure your good will". At that moment, Tyrion also moved towards them. He glanced, rather surprised, at Martyn. The younger Lannister turned towards him. Tyrion stopped.

"Haven't you heard, cousin? Lord stannis took king's landing. He executed my nephews, and even as we speak my father rots in the black cells. House Lannister's support for Joffrey must come to an end. If not we are lost. The Blackfyre pretender styles himself our king. Together we might be able to stop him and save my sister". Not for the first time, Daeron was grateful for his uncle. The speech seemed to give Martyn pause. If Joffrey was dead, and Tywin captured there was no point in continuing to oppose them. Perhaps they could win this without bloodshed after all. Then Martyn shook his head.

"you ask me to surrender? I won't have it. These are clearly vindictive lies, meant to throw me off for the battle, or convince me to submit. I will not." one of the lannister soldiers rode forwards until he was almost on top of them. He sneered at them, before turning to his fellows.

"look at this lads! The half-man and the incest-born valyrian half-wit! Maybe we'll have some fun with the boy's sist-" he was silenced by Daeron's sword severing his head from his shoulders. Glaring at his cousin, Daeron spat on the ground before the boy. He turned to address the Lannister men.

"touch my sister. That's what will happen". With that, he turned and rode from the parley. He smiled as he heard Tyrion's parting words.

"I guess that concludes negotiations, maester."

they had begun their assault as planned. They had decided that the best time to launch the attack was at nightfall, split into two armies. Daeron would lead the assault upon Lannisport with Jon and Jason. Tobias had accompanied them as his father's right hand man. Robb would take Casterly Rock, and officially knock house Lannister out of the war. The men had quickly managed to secure the walls and open the gates. Now he was moving through the city with his men, cutting down any soldiers who had refused to bend the knee. He had strictly ordered his men to leave the women and children living in the city alone. Daeron had made it known to all that rape by any man under his command would not be tolerated.

So far the battle was going well. He attributed it to the small number of enemy troops and the fact they had launched their assault upon the walls at night, when the enemy had expected an immediate attack, or for them to wait until morning. Their goal in attacking Lannisport was twofold; to capture and secure Martyn and the other Lannisters inside the city walls, and draw men away from the rock. To that end, they had taken more than half the army. Although Robb still had large enough numbers to ensure he could hold out in the event they failed.

Daenerys

She had been roused from her sleep by the shouts. Rushing to her window, Dany had seen the fires blazing in nearby Lannisport. She wondered what was going on, and moved to her door. She tapped on the wood to get the guard's attention. "what's going on down there?", she called. The guard's voice sounded back through the door.

"Lannisport is under siege. They're moving men down there to face the invaders". Silence once more reigned between the two. Dany was stunned. She could hardly believe an army had managed to get this far into the Westerlands. She wondered who was leading it. The most logical assumption was that it was the now large force sworn to Aegon and Bethany. She shuddered at the thought. Somehow she thought they would be worse than the Lannisters. She briefly allowed herself to entertain the notion it was Daeron and Lucarion, here to rescue her. The chances of that were slim, and rumours among the men were that Daeron had been killed in his defeat at his grandfather's hand. She had wept at the thought of her beloved foster-brother's death.

Turning back towards the window, she gazed out over the city sprawled below. She could see Lannister men running from the Rock to reinforce the defenders. No doubt Martyn Lannister would either make his way to the rock, or make for the harbour and abandon the west for the capitol. She wondered how close the Lannisters had been to achieving ultimate victory when this attack had occurred out of no where, to snatch it away from them. Aegon and his supporters must have hit Lannisport in an effort to weaken the Lannisters' power over the kingdoms. For the first time since being informed she was a hostage, Dany hoped for a Lannister victory. She didn't want to have to look at Bethany and this boy who called himself her nephew. The boy who spat on her brother's memory by aligning himself with the golden company. Didn't want to have to look into her foster mother's eyes and tell her there was a real chance Daer was dead. None of the horror felt real any more. She was convinced she could open her eyes and it would all be a dream. She glared out the window. The world had taken everything from her. That didn't mean she couldn't fight for what was left.

Jon

The plan had worked so far. Lannister soldiers were coming down from Casterly rock to meet them. He cut through a few men, and called over the din to Daeron.

"Daer, they're here. We've got them coming down here now!" Daeron turned towards him, and nodded to show he had heard what he had said. He called back over the sounds of battle, "i want you to go and find Martyn! Bring him and the others here. We'll handle this!" Jon nodded, and cut down the soldiers around him before running off to find the Lannisters. He ran trough the streets of Lannisport, heading towards the family estate. Throwing himself against a wall, he leaned carefully around the corner. A procession of Lannisters soldiers were escorting Martyn, his mother and his sister from the estate. Glancing around the city, he realised with a jolt of horror where they were going. The family, intending to escape the sack, were heading to the harbour. Glancing around, he carefully followed the procession, determined to catch them, but not draw to much attention before he was ready.

The procession reached the docks, and he lowered himself into a crouch. The captain gestured for men to watch behind them. No sooner had lady Lannister and her daughter stepped onto the boat, had he sprung forwards. He plunged his sword through one of the men, driving his dagger through the second one's skull. Martyn spotted him, shouting out. The men prepared to cast off, but it was too late. He was already cutting through them, moving from one to the next like a storm. The only thoughts flashing through his head in those moments were of Arya and his father. Justice for one, and fear for the other. He had often prayed she was safe, that she had escaped king's landing. Jon leaped onto the ship, cutting down the last soldier. He pressed the end of his blade against Martyn's neck. The young lannister rose his hands in an effort to placate him. Jon glared, and dragged him and the others at sword point from the ship. Tying their hands, he slid his sword away and – as gently as he could – lead the women and Martyn back to Daeron and the others.

when they got back to the Lannister estate, the men waiting for them wore Alleryon and Tully colours, and the stallion of Alleryon, dire wolf of Stark and salmon of lady Stark's Tully relatives flapped over the estate above them flew the three headed dragon and stallion that had become Daeron's personal colours. The soldiers acknowledged him, and took the prisoners from his custody. They directed him to Daeron, who had taken up residence in the main hall. He strode over to his friend, who grinned as he threw his arms around him. Jon hugged back, grateful they had both come out of the battle alive. He hoped the same could be said for his brother. Glancing around, he took stock of the situation. Although no one was dead, Jason was holding his arm, which had been cut during the fight. He nodded to Jon respectfully, who nodded back. Jon turned back to Daeron, Tobias standing beside their mutual friend.

"What's the plan now?" he asked, eager to get to Casterly Rock and make sure that Robb was okDaeron nodded slightly, before speaking.

"we'll be moving out in a few minutes. We're just catching ourselves before marching onto the Rock. We'll take the pass between Lannisport and the Rock, try and cut them off. Don't worry Jon. We'll get to Robb". Jon nodded, drawing his sword and holding it out. Daeron smiled slightly, before tapping blades with him.

Robb

The pain in his shoulder was unbearable. The bolt had pierced his mail, and blood was running down his side. Fortunately they had hit the wrong arm, and he could still fight. The battle had been a hard fought one. The assault on Lannisport had helped, reducing the numbers they had faced. The soldiers had all fought tooth and nail to defend the Rock however, as they had anticipated. Now, they were finally making progress. Northerners and Rivermen were beginning to drive the Lannister forces back. Soon, they would take the greatest fortress in Westeros. Despite the pain, Robb grinned at the thought. He slashed out, killing a Lannister man who had been charging towards him. Just then, he felt another bolt strike him, this one hitting closer to the centre. He winced, even as the Greatjon grabbed him from behind.

"your grace," the big man was saying, "we have to get you somewhere safe. We'll finish this for you". With the pain casting a haze over his mind, Robb didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he nodded slowly, as soldiers moved him carefully away from the battlefield. His last thoughts were of how he had betrayed Jon and Daeron, and the trust they had placed in him. They had been counting on him to take the Rock. And he had let them down.

Jason

Lannister soldiers fell around them as they cut their way towards the victory they had longed for. They were so close to the end, he could almost taste it. Tobias was fighting by his side. He had recently been impressed by his son and heir. He had never expected Tobi would be able to hold his own on a battlefield so well. War had never seemed like it would be his son's pursuit. The boy had always struck him as more of a lover than a fighter. But his heir had more than met the challenge. He could not have been more proud of him. Together, father and son fought side by side. Ahead of them fought Daeron and Jon snow. The two of them were like a fire storm, burning through the enemy lines. They were almost perfectly in sync, each defending the other as he hacked down a handful of Lannister men in a few seconds. It was impressive, even to a seasoned veteran like Jason. The lord of house Ainsworth had only encountered one man like it.

The one time in his life he had fought someone like Jon snow, he had been sure he would die. The only reason he was still alive was because Robert Baratheon had pushed him aside, and proceeded to cave in his opponent's chest. The most terrifying part about it all was that Snow might even be better than that man. Better than Rhaegar Targaryen. Pushing such memories from his mind, Jason just considered himself fortunate he didn't have to fight against Jon. It wasn't a fate he envied the Lannister men. Soon enough, they had pushed their way towards the top of the rock, poised to take it. The Lannisters fought even harder, distinctly aware what would happen if they lost. Led by Jon Umber, the Stark boy's host had pushed ahead of them, and soon, under sheer weight of numbers, the Lannister force would break. He turned to Tobias.

"You ready to finish these 'lions', son?", he asked his son, over the sounds of the fighting. His son nodded. Together they fought through towards Jon and Daeron, pushing forwards. Beside him, Tobias fought like a man possessed. He cut down four men one after the other, flipping a fifth over his shoulder, where he was finished off by a spear through the neck by a spear through the neck. Eventually he and Tobi were fighting back to back just behind Daeron. Tobias had been carefuly keeping the enemy off of both he and Jason, although he had failed to see the soldier coming from the side. Without thinking, Jason pushed him aside, driving the sword through his enemy's heart. The man drove his own blade through his belly.

He felt a shearing pain throughout his body. Pain racked through him, as he fell to one knee. As he pushed himself to his feet, and heard Tobi calling his name desperately, a crossbow quarrel pierced his throat, and, even as he heard their men letting out a great victory cry, he fell back into Tobias' arms. He heard Tobias desperately call his names. Felt his son's tears splashing against his chest. With his strength failing him, he gently lifted his hand, rubbing it through the boy's hair affectionately.

"I'm proud of you, Tobi", he whispered, just loud enough for his son to hear. He tried to pull the bolt out, felt Tobi desperately trying to stop him.

"Don't," his son begged, "it'll only make the bleeding worse. You'll die if you do."

"I'm going to anyway". As if to accentuate his point, he coughed, and felt blood splatter his chin. Tobi was even more desperate now. Jason looked at him, unstrapping his sword, with it's dragonbone hilt. The blade was simple steel, but it had been carefully looked after, as an heirloom of their house. He handed it to him.

"you are our lord now, my son", he told him, simply. He slowly felt his eyes closing. Tobi shook his head, his own eyes shining.

"I'm not ready father".

"You are son, you are". There, his head in his son's lap, Jason, lord of house Ainsworth, died.

Daenerys

She'd seen the banners flying over Lannisport and herd the fighting outside. She had to try and escape, get down to Daeron. She had to let him know that she was alive. Let him know that she was still okay. He had come to rescue her. She wanted to see him, to reassure herself that he too was okay. She kicked on the door, hoping the guard would come to see what was happening. She got her wish when he opened the door, glaring at her. Thinking fast, she drove her knee into him, driving him to the ground. Grabbing a knife from his belt, she cut his throat. She ran from the room, stabbing the guard on the other side of the door in the neck as she went. Running through the halls, she called for help. She could hear voices coming from near the entrance. She ran in their direction. Nearing the entrance hall, she could make out who was talking, and what they were saying.

"We have to find her, Tyrion. I need to know she's ok". She heard Daeron's calm voice, although there was an undercurrent of urgency she hadn't heard from him before. With a jolt, she realised he was talking about her. She doubled her pace, calling his name as she went. She wouldn't feel safe and complete until she was with him again. She didn't care how he felt, or what these feelings meant about her. He still hadn't heard her. Tyrion was speaking.

"We should go with Jon. We need to make sure that his brother is alright. He almost died for you, you can find out about Dany later".

"Daeron", she shouted, "I'm in here, I'm okay."

"Tyrion," he began, "did you hear that?"

she barged into the entrance hall, smiling at the stunned look on Tyrion's face. Daeron was staring at her, smiling at her. Without hesitation she ran towards him, throwing herself into his waiting arms. She cried into his shoulder.

"I thought we'd lost each other", she whispered against his neck.

Daeron

The fighting was done, and they had taken the Rock. The only thing on his mind was finding Dany. That was all he cared about. He strode into Casterly Rock for the first time in four years, Tyrion following behind him. He smiled down at his uncle as the smaller man gazed around his ancestral home. He grinned at his uncle.

"so," he began as the other man turned his head towards him, "how does it feel to be lord paramount of the Westerlands?" the older man grinned up at him as he finished his inspection of the entrance hall. His uncle gestured for him to kneel down. As he did, he felt Tyrion's arms winding around him, and heard his uncle's voice in his ear.

"you have no idea how good it feels, your grace". The once teasing tile brought a slight grin to his face, as he thought of all they had achieved in such a short time. For the first time in this war, he felt as though victory could be reached. He knew in his heart that they would need more houses to join them to defeat their many enemies. The most pressing of which were of course the boy styling himself Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, and his own half sister. If they could not defeat them, the Westerlands and the Riverlands would burn. They would need to act fast if they wanted to stop him.

He pulled himself up, glancing purposefully around the hall. He made to move further into the Rock, before his uncle stopped him. The smaller man stared up at him.

"Where are you going?" he demanded. For a moment, Daeron glared down at him, before his expression softened. He told the other lord his intentions.

"I'm going to get Dany, uncle". His uncle lowered his head, letting out a slight sigh.

"Daer, we don't even know she's alive. It's likely she was killed when we attacked". Daeron glared at his uncle once more, shaking his head.

"We have to find her, Tyrion. I need to know she's ok"

his uncle closed his eyes. The little man seemed exasperated. "We should go with Jon. We need to make sure that his brother is alright. He almost died for you, you can find out about Dany later".

Daeron shook his head, but made to follow his uncle. Than, suddenly, he stopped, turning back towards the double doors. There was a voice calling from the other side. "

Daeron", he heard Dany shouting, "I'm in here, I'm okay."

"Tyrion," he began, grinning like a mad man at his uncle "did you hear that?"

she barged into the entrance hall, smiling at the stunned look on Tyrion's face. Daeron stared at her for a few moments beaming at her . Daeron held out his arms, gesturing for a hug. Without hesitation she ran towards him, throwing herself into his waiting arms. She cried into his shoulder.

"I thought we'd lost each other", she whispered against his neck. He smiled down at her reassuringly. He kissed her forehead. She gazed up at him, teary lilac eyes piercing his own. He grinned at her. Even after everything she had been through she was as beautiful as ever.

"I told you little dragon, I'll always protect you". She grinned back at him, tightening her hold around his waist.

"promise?"

and with that, uncaring of Tyrion and the soldiers watching, and Jon standing in the doorway, he kissed her.


	12. Chapter 11

11 – And Winter Fell

Aegon

He and Bethany had been married in the Starfyre hall sept. The service had been a small one; the guests had consisted of Jaeherys for her, and Jon Connington for him. Oberyn Martell had also attended. As he watched the Targaryen banner flying over the castle of Seagard, and his men drag the prisoners out of the courtyard, he wished he could still be back in that sept. Life had been so much simpler than, without a war to fight and enemies to kill. Still, he had a duty to house Targaryen, and to his people. He could not let the usurper's brother or the traitor take the iron throne. Bethany was still advocating putting the traitor's mother and siblings to death, so, rather than leave them with her in Starfyre hall, he had decided to bring them with him. The younger of the twins had been whimpering from the steady sheen of rain for an hour now. He sighed; the child wasn't the only one who was cold. He turned his head and directed his host to move on.

Their plan was a simple one; they would lay siege to castles throughout the Riverlands and set alight the fields from the western borders to the god's eye. Their hope was that this tactic would draw out either Daeron, now ensconced in Casterly Rock with Aegon's aunt Daenerys, or 'king' Stannis. They had split their forces in three, with each marching on several castles each. Jon had been sent North to deal with lord Frey at the twins. Securing the crossing would keep Daeron's Stark allies from marching north or bringing more men south to support him. That was their main target for the campaign. If they could take it, Aegon would be all but assured in his victory over his kinsman. In truth, he had hoped they might be allies. Tying his fate to Bethany, a traitor to her own blood, and determined to be a kinslayer, did not sit well with the young king. Ridding his mind of such thoughts, he returned his attention to the campaign. They intended to skirt around Riverrun itself, only taking it once they were at full force.

Daeron's success at Casterly Rock had not come as a surprise. He knew the castle well; he was a brilliant warrior. Aegon had heard all of the rumours. They said that his kinsman had the skill of their ancestor, Aegon's famous namesake. He wasn't sure about that. Perhaps he had the blade work of Rhaegar. But that was probably it; Aegon would test his mettle when the time came, and the victor would be the true heir of the dragon. And, even if his foe had the upper hand on the field, it wouldn't matter. The Martells would see to that. And the secret weapon he had left with Illyrio Mopatis would also help. Gesturing to his captains, Aegon gave them the order to move on to Oldstones and Fairmarket. The army began its long march over again. Yes, he thought to himself, for now, he would leave Daenerys and the Westerlands to Daeron. But soon, he would take everything from him. So long as Bethany followed through on her promise to unravel the secrets of the Dragon Tower. If what he suspected was there, Illyrio's gift wouldn't be needed after all.

He smiled as he remembered what they had discovered in the tower study already. Hidden amongst the books and tomes collected by house Alleryon over the centuries, was the journal of the house's most mysterious lord. Daeron's own grandfather. In the journal, recounting his travels, he mentioned dragon lore hevilly. Amongst it all were his notes on hatching eggs. It was Aegon's belief that he would be able to unlock the full potential of Illyrio's gift following the old man's notes. The old book was kept in Bethany's possession, safe and sound.

Daeron

He smiled as he watched his uncle slowly kneel before the septon. Despite the fact that Tyrion was taking the title he had been raised to believe would be his own, it didn't concern him. The Westerlands belonged to Tyrion by right. It was no one's fault but Tywin's own that he had not seen that himself. Tyrion had been dressed in the colours of house Lannister. His own personal standard, depicting his position as the king's hand, hung behind the lord's seat, and the proud lion of house Lannister hung throughout the hall. Now, with word from King's Landing that Tywin had been stripped of his titles and sent to the wall in permanent exile, the Westerlands could begin to heal after his tyranny. Melissa stood by Daeron's left side, watching on with pride. Beside her sat her husband, Edmure Tully.

The septon had begun to speak; all in attendance fell silent. Daeron smiled at his sister. She grinned back at him. The septon's voice hung through the air, but all knew he was directing his words to one man only.

"Tyrion Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock, do you swear to uphold and defend the people of the Westerlands?" he asked, beginning the ceremony. Daeron watched his uncle, who rose his head to address the septon before him. The lord nodded his head slightly.

"I do so swear". The septon inclined his head, and read the next line from his text,

"Do you swear to uphold and defend the king's peace, and ensure justice and mercy to be carried out in all your judgements?" another nod, as Tyrion spoke the oath he had recited in his head for years. Once again, he was filled with pride and joy for his uncle.

The old man nodded, before speaking once more, "in the name of Daeron, third of his name, and Daenerys, first of her name, king and queen of the Andals, the first man and the Rhoynar, protectors of the realm, and rightful lord and lady of Starfyre hall and Dragonstone respectfully, I name you Tyrion, lord of Casterly Rock, and lord paramount of the westerlands".

The hall remained reverently silent as the septon placed a lannister cloak over his uncle's shoulders. He stood and turned to address the crowd as lord of the west. Daeron and the others around him cheered. Many he noted remained silent. If their silence bothered his uncle he did not show it. Daeron smiled as he slipped an arm around Melissa's shoulder, and kissed her forehead. they watched as their brother, who had been declared to be the rightful lord of Castamere joined the nobles who would swear oaths of fealty to Tyrion. Daeron wanted to be over with the ceremony, so they could move on to the next two ceremonies. He felt his sister tap his shoulder.

He bent down to hear what she had to say. She was smiling at him now, "nervous?" she whispered in his ear. He shook his head. She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his response. He smiled as he explained his reasoning to her.

"I can't remember how long i've wanted this, and it's not really official. This is just so we can have a dual coronation. We'll have a proper ceremony with mother and the Twins later". She nodded, grinning at him. He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged saying she would explain it later. Eventually, the nobles had sworn their oaths. It was his turn. He stepped up to the dais, just as Tyrion was making his way down. They stopped. Daeron grinned at his uncle.

"congratulations, my lord hand".

"And to you as well, your grace". The two smirked at one another, and Daeron took his place before the septon. The crowd stood as one as Daenerys strode down the aisle, eyes on his. She smiled at him, and he beamed back. Daeron waited patiently as Dany - in her blue dress with her Targaryen cloak - strode purposefully towards him. He felt his heart beat grow in intensity as she came to a stop beside him. He felt her reach her hand out towards him. Smiling down at her, he took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. The septon smiled at the pair of them. Daeron pushed his nerves down, and waited for the septon to begin. Despite what he had told Mels, he _was_ nervous about this. How could he not be, having wanted it for so long? He wondered if Daenerys was feeling the same way he was. Part of him hoped she was, although he had a feeling she might have been anyway.

The septon began to read from the seven pointed star. Once he was finished, they spoke their vows to one another, and their fates were bound. The septon gestured to Daeron to cloak Dany, and complete the ceremony. Reverently, he removed her cloak, and draped on her shoulders the cloak that had come to represent their joint houses and ancestory. He smiled as he gently pecked her on the lips, and the ceremony was complete. The septon gestured for the pair to kneel. Anointing them with oil, he bid them stand as king and queen of the seven kingdoms. They smiled to the assembled nobles, who let out a great cheer. Together they descended to join their family in celebration. Daeron kissed her on the cheek, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Melissa stepped forwards to embrace them both. Daeron heard her whispering something to Dany. Whatever she had said it had made her smile. Briefly he wondered if his parents would approve of his decision. Leaving the hall with Tyrion, Daeron and Dany signalled for their closest relatives, Allies and bannermen to join them. Together they sat in the lords solar. The others in the room congratulated them, to which Daeron smiled in thanks. Once they had said their peace, the meeting began.

From beside him, Dany spoke up. "my lords, we wish to thank you for your kind words, and your loyalty. Daer wishes to reward two among you with positions in our royal guard. But more importantly, we must decide who will lead the campaign to remove Aegon from the Riverlands". The others were nodding along and murmuring amongst themselves now. Even Tobias, who hadn't spoken since Jason's death, was nodding. The Greatjon stamped his hand on the table and called for silence.

"My lords, her grace is speaking".

"Thank you, lord Umber," she nodded towards him, and he smiled, "now, as you know Daer and I shall rule this realm together as equals. That means I shall be by his side to provide support and advice in these meetings". The lords seemed to accept it, though he couldn't be sure with all of them. Dany continued, making sure each other member of the council was paying attention.. "as you all know, my sister by law, Bethany has taken the ancestral seat of house Alleryon". The others were nodding now, glancing at one another This was an uncomfortable subject for the lords. Some had had issues swearing oaths to a king with no seat. She gestured to Daeron to take up the meeting. He nodded in thanks.

"What you don't know is this; when my grandfather, Lord Maegor made his great journey to Essos, he sailed as far Asshai. He learned things there, terrible secrets. Grandfather never told anyone what, not even our faher," he explained, nodding to Melissa, indicating she knew the story. She nodded in understanding, before turning to her husband and the other lords.

"Grandfather wrote down the secret in high valyrian, in a journal no one has ever seen. But Daeron and I think we know where to look". The other lords were stunned by her words. They all knew the stories about Maegor Alleryon. Many had whispered that his voyages to Essos – shrouded in mystery – had sent him insane. Of course, the rumours had never been confirmed. What was known for sure was that the once jovial lord had become sullen and standoffish. He sequestered himself away in the Dragon tower, working well into the night. Some had claimed he was studying blood magic. The mystery captivated the country. Even John, once so close to his father, began to fear he was insane. Many still wondered what he had discovered in those ancient lands. They had long theorised on what could have broken the mind of such a kind, thoughtful man. The voyage had begun in an effort to find a valyrian steel sword for his house. After three years in Essos, he had returned with an ornate chest of dragonglass, which he claimed had been given to him during his travels, and the Valyrian steel sword he had been searching for. This he had found, it was whispered, in the shell of Valyria itself. No one alive knew what he had kept hidden in that box. The sword, Starfyre, now hung at the waist of Jaeherys Alleryon. Daeron intended to reclaim it from him.

"why haven't I heard this?" Lucarion demanded, glaring at his siblings. He had never heard this story before. All he had been told was that their grandfather found what he had wanted. He had heard the stories the smallfolk told. He had never placed much stock in those. Daeron frowned at his heir. Lucarion's attitude had been deteriorating even further in recent days. The two had been constantly at odds, and he was concerned Lucarion might eventually come to blows with he or Dany. Melissa turned to him.

"Because only the heir is told the full story of what's in that tower. Before me it was father. I was heir until Daeron was born, so I was also informed". Lucarion's glare intensified, and he snapped about being Daeron's heir, and having a right to know. Daeron glared at his brother.

"Melissa and I have decided to be honest with all of you," he snarled at his brother. Lucarion met his gaze, refusing to blink. Daeron snorted at his brother, before speaking once more. "My grandfather did find something secret in Asshai, it's true. But information isn't all they gave him. No doubt you'll remember the rumours of the Dragonglass box?" the other lords were nodding now, although some shook their heads. Everyone of house Alleryon's bannermen knew of the box.

"Melissa and I have been discussing the matter," Daeron began, glancing at Jon carefully. His friend barely seemed to register the look on his face as he continued, "and we've decided we need to send someone to Starfyre hall. We need them to infiltrate the castle, and steal the box and journal. Whatever's in that tower might be dangerous". Silence fell upon the entire group. The lords stared at one another, each stunned as the next. None of them had expected this. They all stared at Daeron, and he stared calmly back. After a few moments, Tyrion burst out into peals of laughter. He addressed Daeron directly.

"good joke, Daeron. Infiltrate the hall, I love it.". Some of the other lords started laughing with him. They stopped at the look on Daeron's face. They knew he was serious. Tyrion, who had stopped laughing, stared at him in shock. Daeron nodded in answer to the unspoken question. The little man's mouth fell open. Melissa once more took up the tale.

"Daeron and I speculate that, hidden amongst his notes, the old man left instructions on whatever he was warned about. We fear he was given something potentially dangerous by the same people who gave him the information". This time, it was Jon who spoke up. There was a thoughtful, brooding look on his face.

"Warned about what? Do we know?"

Daeron shook his head. "We think it might have something to do with his last words to father. He said 'the night is dark, and full of terrors'. It's to do with the faith of R'hollor. The god Stannis has taken to worshipping, my best assumption is that it has something to do with the long night legends, or Asshai itself".

Sam

The long trek back from the fist of the first men had been terrifying. The others had been hounding the entire way. Lord commander Mormont had done his best to keep as many of them alive as possible. He had ordered Sam to stay alive, and, out of fear for what he would do if he died, Sam complied. The horror of the weights had been enough for Sam, he didn't want to feel the lord commander's wrath. Now, they were in sight of safety; they had reached Craster's keep. Sam often found himself wondering what he would do without Gren and Pyp. Apart from maester Aemon, they were the only friends he had in the watch.

The commander was able to convince craster to let them in out of the cold. As they trudged into the keep, each one cold and tired, Sam couldn't help but feel that they had escaped one death trap, only to enter another.

Bran

It had been a long time since Jon, Robb and Theon had gone south. He had received a raven from his half-brother recently, explaining that Robb and Daeron had decided to send Theon off to his father, in order to secure an alliance with Balon Greyjoy. He had warned him to be careful of the Greyjoys. Bran sighed as Hodor carried him in his basket, and Osha walked besides the tall stable boy. Osha had been acting odd ever since bran had told her of the dream his friend Jojen Reed had recounted to him of the waves crashing over Winterfell, and his claims that people living in the castle would die. She had insisted it wasn't possible, but Bran knew his wildling friend better than that. She wasn't superstitious, but she knew things. Strange things, that no 'southerner' as she called the rest of them, could be aware of. At least not fully aware. And Jojen seemed to know things too. Perhaps it was Jon's warnings, but Bran couldn't shake the feeling that friend's dream was indeed a warning. He felt sure something bad was on its way to winterfell. It scared him to think.

Bran sighed, as he realised he would need to hold court again today. Being the acting lord of Winterfell wasn't fun. He hoped Daeron and Robb won their war soon. He hoped Robb could come home, with Sansa and Arya. The idea of losing them didn't appeal to him. Not after his father's death. He had heard recently from Maester Luwin that they had managed to take Casterly Rock. The news gladdened Bran. It meant they would be able to take King's landing, defeat Stannis and end the war before long. Unless some new enemy came along. He hadn't heard what was happening with Bethany Alleryon. For all he knew she had already been defeated by Kevan Lannister, or even by Daeron himself.

He told Hodor to take him back to the castle, so he could get ready for the session of court.

He was glad to be done with all of the complaints. Ser Rodrik barged into the hall as he and maester Luwin were talking. The big knight bowed low to him, before giving him his report.

''

"We've got reports of invaders my lord. Torren's square has been attacked". Bran couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could the Lannisters have penetrated this far north, especially after the losses they had suffered? Maester Luwin voiced his disbelief.

"the Lannisters could never have attacked this far north".

Ser Rodrik shrugged.

"I wouldn't know. Permission to go route them out my lord?" Bran nodded to the knight, asking how many men he would need for his expedition. The big knight considered the question for a moment before answering.

"two hundred men should suffice, my lord".

"do you really need so many?" maester Luwin asked. Bran turned to regard him.

"If we can't protect our own Bannermen, why should they protect us? Go Ser Rodrik take the men you need". Ser Rodrik smiled at the young prince.

"won't take well my lord. Southerners don't do well up here". He turned around and left the hall once more. Bran called Hodor over so he could go for the ride he had been intending to take before dark.

Theon

His plan to take winterfell had worked. They had sent men to secure Torren's square, as he had predicted. Like most greenlanders, the Starks were sentimental. That was what had defeated them, in the end. He would take Winterfell in his father's name, and win his respect. He and Dagmer now stood in Bran's room, as the little lord woke up slowly.

"I've taken your castle," the young Greyjoy prince stated confidently. He straightened his shoulders, determined to look imposing. There was a small part of him that thought it was all ridiculous the

starks were his family. They had raised him. Robb and Bran were his brothers. He pushed such stray thoughts aside, focusing on his loyalty to his father. He was an iron born. He could not afford to show any weakness. The crippled Stark slowly sat up in the bed, gazing confusedly at them.

"Theon?", he asked, staring at him.

"it's prince Theon now. Where both princes now bran, who would have thought? Only I've taken your castle my prince", he told the boy proudly, grinning like a shark. It reminded him of happier times, and he wondered if Bran felt the same. Bran didn't smile. Neither did Dagmer. Theon chose to press on with the current situation. "Get up," he told the little lord, "you have to get dressed".

Bran made no move to comply. Theon moved closer to the cot. "I've taken Winterfell. I took it, i'm occupying it. I sent men over the walls with grappling claws and ropes". Bran stared tiredly at him, as if he thought it was some kind of joke, brushing his auburn Tully hair out of his eyes.

"Why?" the boy asked him. For a brief moment, Theon wondered the same thing himself. He had been telling himself it was to make his father proud, and perhaps it was. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with proving a point to _himself._ He wanted to prove he could be Ironborn. That he wasn't a stark; wasn't a green lander. The feeling wasn't an appealing one. He told uBran how he had ordered the people of Winterfell in the great hall. The boy would surrender there. Bran glared at him, demanding to know if he had always hated the Stark family. No, he thought bitterly to himself, I don't hate you, Bran. Nice work Greyjoy, he sneered at himself. Hodor was brought into the room. He snapped at the half wit stable boy to carry the young Stark boy to the great hall.

They walked out into the hall, his men pushing the members of the stark household forwards. The men glared at him, spitting curses. He glared back at them as he sat in the lord's chair. From his position, Bran spoke the words Theon had told him to.

"I've yielded Winterfell to prince Theon". The young Stark lord glared at him, as if the words stuck in his gestured to Bran, as well as his brother Rickon, the two Walders, Beth Cassel and the Reeds, announcing them to be his new wards. The soldiers dragged forth two people. One of them, Theon recognised; it was the wildling woman he had told Robb they should have killed when she and her friends attacked Bran in the godswood. Instead the Starks had made her their 'guest'. Just like Ned Stark had taken him on as a ward. The other, he did not recognise. He had unkempt black hair that fell as far as his neck, and the clothes of one of the smallfolk. He was bound, and had the general look of a prisoner. The soldiers pushed them onto their knees.

Theon stared at the pair; the girl refused to meet his eyes, although the other stared straight back at him. The prisoner spoke, and his voice sent a slight shiver down Theon's spine.

"Milord Greyjoy, release me from the Stark prison, and I'm yours", the man told Theon, who regarded him, he knew he would need servants he could trust in the castle if he was to hold Winterfell. Who better than a man beholden to him for releasing him from his prison cell? Theon nodded to the man, accepting his oath. The prisoner offered his name as Reek. Theon doubted it was real, but assumed the man had a right to his secrets. He accepted Osha's oath with more scepticism. But, he supposed, even wildling women had a use. The first issue came when he demanded the people of Winterfell yield to his rule.

Mikken, lord Stark's smith, refused to bend the knee. His loyalty to his former employer led to his death when Stygg killed him. As a sacrifice to the drowned god, and to appease his ironborn followers, Theon agreed to have the castle Septon drowned.

Catelyn

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Theon Greyjoy, who she and Ned had raised like a son, had betrayed Robb. He had attacked Winterfell, and kidnapped her youngest children. She sat in her seat, head buried in her hands as she cried softly. For the first time, with four of her children taken from her, she could now understand how Daeron must have felt when she had taken his uncle. The pain was almost unbearable. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. It felt as though her whole world was crumbling around her, and she was powerless to stop it, or do anything about it. The thought of what might happen scared her. Although she was confident Stannis would not harm Sansa, and she held out hope Arya was safe, she had no idea what Theon would do to her boys.

She heard someone walking through the castle towards her. Lifting her head, she saw it was Daenerys, and quickly leaped to her feet to curtsey. The queen rose her hand, assuring her that it was fine. She had only come, she explained, to offer her condolences for her husband's loss, and to express hope for her children's safe return. She also wished to assure her that everything would be done to ensure just that, and that her husband and Catelyn's son were discussing the issue as they spoke. She only hoped they would come to an arrangement, soon, she expressed.

Catelyn thanked her, and the two women sat together, with Daenerys listening to her fears and griefs. It felt good, Cat had to admit, to be able to reveal these private feelings to another soul.

Varys

Convincing the elderly man with the hungry family to take his place on the block had been easy. Stannis and his servants had never realised what was wrong until it was too late. The execution hadn't been to bad other than that. He giggled to himself at the thought as he snuck across the Riverlands towards Aegon's camp site. If only, Varys thought to himself, he could say he was sad to see Petyr's death. That, however wasn't actually true. It would be good to shed the secrecy and acting when he was in the company of friends. Spending time with young Aegon again would be good. The lad was a good one and he would make a good king. Varys and Illyrio would make sure that he made it onto the Iron Throne. Daeron's little 'rebellion' had made for some unexpected delays, but the outcome would be the same. Daeron would be dead, and Aegon would sit the iron throne. Eventually, a solution would have to be made for the issue with Aegon having had to marry Bethany. A girl like her - a traitor to her own blood – and the sister to yet more traitors, would not be a suitable consort for Aegon. They could ensure an accident for the young lady Alleryon, and arrange for him to marry prince Oberyn's niece, the Martell girl, or the Tyrell they could achieve their goal, and sit the boy on the throne, than all their other problems would fall into place.

Bran

Their escape north had begun. He still couldn't believe what Theon had done to his – to their – family. As Hodor carried him, the young lord glanced over to Osha. At the time, that had been another betrayal hard to take. And although he now knew none of it had been real, there was still a part of Bran that was angry with her. He glanced over at Rickon, his younger brother trudging along with Meera and Jojen Reed. The boy showed no real sign that he knew what was going on. And if he did, Bran doubted he even cared. For Bran himself however, the pain was still sharp, and more than that, he was angry. Theon had been his brother. He had cheered when Bran succeeded, worried after his fall, and largely been part of the family. Indeed Sansa and Mother had both treated him better than they had Bran's own Brother, Jon. And now, with this treason, Bran wasn't quite sure where to go next. Nothing seemed certain any more, other than the fact that everything in his life was about to change. Jojen Reed had encouraged him to make his way out north and find the three eyed raven he had been seeing in his dreams. The other boy seemed to think it was his own duty to get Bran to the raven. That didn't seem to sit well with Bran's wilding friend, however. Osha harboured no desire to see anything north of the wall again. She had made no secret of this fact, or her mistrust of the Reed siblings. It wasn't easy for Bran. He felt as though he were trapped between two camps, being pulled in different ways. But as he pointed out to his companions, none of that mattered. Soon enough, once they had heard of this, Robb and Jon would ride north and put it right. They would root out the iron born, drive them back to their islands once more, and deal with Theon for his treason against house Stark. Against the north.

Jojen had shook his head at that, explaining that they could not, " Robb Stark and Jon Snow have their own war to fight in the south. They cannot afford to ride north in force, not while they are so beset with enemies. And Jon will not abandon his king – his friend – so lightly. From what I have seen of him in my dreams, that is not his way. No Bran, it won't be your brothers who take winterfell from the Greyjoys who have stolen it". Bran did not like the tone with which the other boy spoke. Somehow, he made it sound as if the future were even worse for Winterfell and house Stark. Bran wondered about that, how could things possibly be any worse for his family than they already were?

Jon

The road had been a long one; he'd needed to be careful on his way here. There was no denying Bethany was being very alert with the defences around the castle. Lowering himself down from the tree he had climbed into to scout out the walls from, he slowly made his way towards the castle, determined to retrieve the dragonglass box and journal. He had also been instructed to bring a message to Ceryse; they would rescue her as soon as possible.


	13. Back into the fray

**A/N:** I'd like some suggestions on pairings for Lucarion and Jon, either review or pm me with your choice. Thank you for the support!

Feel free to create an OC for the pairing, may be as detailed as you wish

please include

Age

Physical description

house

short bio/ statement of agenda

12 -

Stannis

Stannis groaned internally as he listened to Davos go on and on about the state they found themselves in. he knew their situation was a difficult one. Despite defeating Tywin Lannister and seizing the capital, Stannis still had less men than all his rivals, disregarding Balon Greyjoy. The Ironborn invasion of the north had relieved some of the pressure, making it difficult for the northerners to send Daeron Alleryon further reinforcements. The real threat now was the boy who claimed to be a Targaryen. If Stannis was to defeat his remaining rivals, he would need allies. Those would be hard to come by.

"The Tyrells have returned to a neutral standpoint for now. They'll eventually have to choose someone to support, or risk alienating themselves from the throne. After what happened to lord Renly, with ser Loras feeling the way he does, they'll be," the onion knight paused for a brief moment, before continuing, "unlikely to support your grace. Then there's the vale. The Arryn's are the only house who haven't openly declared for you or any of your rivals. Lord Jon fought with king Robert, and helped you investigate the queen. Perhaps his widow will see the need to continue that support". Stannis nodded warily as he regarded his hand. Lysa Arryn was a strange woman, delicate and not quite right in the head. But she _was_ his best chance of holding the Iron Throne. The difficult part would be convincing her to support him, both in this war, and the war to come against the dead in the frozen north. He turned to the red woman.

"I want you to go to the vale. Convince them to follow me in battle. Show the Arryn woman the visions you showed me in the flames if you have to. But bring me back the knights of the vale. Lady Melisandre nodded, bowing to him and nodding slightly towards the onion knight as she departed the throne room. A look somewhere between relief and horror fell upon the former smuggler's face. It was a strange sight. Stannis rolled his eyes at the knight who'd become more and more a doting old fish wife.

"What is it now, Davos?" the other man blinked once before speaking.

"Your grace, I'm concerned the lady Melisandre's _methods_ might not appeal to Lady Arryn. She has a young son after all - "Stannis rose an arm, dismissing his concerns.

"If the lady Arryn refuses her duty to house Baratheon, then I'll see to it she likes the alternative method far less". Ser Davos, usually self-confident to the point of insolence, gulped slightly. Stannis felt a brief touch of pride at having discomforted the other man.

"And what is the alternative method, your grace?", the hand of the king inquired, the look on his face making it clear he was dreading the response. Stannis glared harshly in the direction of the map of the kingdoms spread out before them. He removed several castles from their markers on the vale. Rolling them around aimlessly in his hand, he snapped them in half, letting them fall to the ground at his side.

"I'll make her watch as I destroy the vale". Stannis did not fail to witness Davos flinching at his threat. The other man bowed low, before following the direction the red woman had taken out of the throne room. Stannis allowed his head to fall into his hands as he reflected on the situation. They had succeeded in taking the capital, yet with Aegon in the Riverlands marching east, they would soon find themselves under threat of a siege. There was every chance they could defeat the would-be conqueror if he were to attempt an assault on the walls. If they were to be sure to hold their gains however, they would need more men. Even if they could turn him back before seizing the capital, as it stood, they would not have the numbers to fight the real war. Nor could Stannis himself afford to forget said war. The others would destroy the entire kingdom – if not the world – unless they stopped them. Melisandre assured him he was the reborn Azzor Ahai, the only man capable of turning back the darkness, and saving mankind. He didn't see it, but if the walkers could be destroyed, or at least driven as far north as possible, what did it matter?

Standing from the Iron throne, Stannis exited towards the royal chambers. It had been a long morning, and he felt the sudden desire to spend time with his wife and child.

Tywin

The wall was a cold, dreary place, lacking in both warmth and colour. It was a dull affair next to the intrigues of capital and the gold and crimson halls of Casterly Rock. Davos Waters and Ser Alliser Thorne walled through the training yard with him, pointing out various sights. In the few days since he had arrived, Tywin had made sure to cultivate as many relationships as possible. Waters may not have been intelligent or courageous, but his fear of the Lannister name made him easy to sway. The naïve idea that the former lord of the Westerlands was his 'friend' didn't hurt either. Thorne, on the other hand, was useful. With the upcoming choosing, the loyalty of the old knight would be important in swaying others to vote for him. The Title of lord commander of the Night's Watch would not be the same as lord of Casterly Rock or hand of the king, but it was better than nothing. As for the claims of dead men rising, if it _were_ true, it would be an interesting tenure, to be sure. Yet Tywin was confident he could defeat the others. As long as they were mortal, they could be killed. If they could be killed, he would find a way.

Before he worried about that, however, he needed to win in the choosing. He turned to Thorne.

"Who are the likely candidates for your choosing, Ser Thorne?"

the other man regarded him for a few moments. He slowly answered, careful not to cause offense to the other noble.

"Anyone could be nominated lord Lannister. But I don't think you'll be able to win it, if that's what you intend. Neither the old maester or the northerners will vote for you. Your methods will not have earned you any favours here. Make no mistakes, lion lord, despite the claims, we're as political here as men are anywhere else". With that, the master at arms walked away from him, no doubt to torment Samwell Tarly or train more recruits. As the other man left them alone, he turned to Davos Waters.

"Master Waters," he ordered the former member of the city watch, "my campaign to gain power over the watch will be a difficult one. Convince as many of the brothers to vote for me as you can. If I am made lord commander, I will see you rewarded for your services to me. After all a Lannister always pays his debts". The younger brother nodded before rushing off to do his bidding. Tywin smiled to himself as he made his way into the mess hall. It was clear to him Thorne desired the position for himself. But if he wanted it, he would have a fight on his hands. It was time to show these northern fools the true nature of a Lannister.

Jon

His dagger slid through the guard's neck, killing him silently and instantly. The body slumped to the ground allowing him to drag it into a dark corner. He gathered up the dead man's leather armour and weapons. Removing his own armour, he dressed the guard with his own wares, placing his sword on the body as well. Dressing in the guard's armour, he took the dead soldier's spear in hand, and strode calmly towards the castle. Despite his disguise, he would have to take care not to draw too much attention to himself. No doubt Bethany would have the soldiers on high alert. With the main force so close by encamped near Casterly Rock, she had to know she would be next on her brother's list of targets.

The journey across the yard was a relatively uneventful one; the only soul he saw was another guard, who merely nodded in his direction. Jon nodded back at the other man. Fortunately for him, they were too far away for the other soldier to see his face. He climbed the steps towards the entrance way to the keep. The guard on duty raised an eyebrow at him. Inwardly taking a breath to steady himself, Jon saluted the older man with his spear. The guard saluted back, still watching him carefully.

"What is it kid?" the man, who looked to be at least twenty-five name days old demanded, glaring at him.

"Commander told me I'm to relive you. Says he needs to speak with you about something". Jon explained to him. The other soldier hesitated for a moment before nodding. He made off in the direction of the guard house. Jon took up position before the doors for a few moments, before carefully slipping into the castle. Making his way through the halls, he stopped another young-looking guard on his way towards the doors.

"Soldier! Have they moved the prisoners? There's concern we might be compromised with the enemy forces so close. Lord Jaeherys sent me back from the main army". The young man looked terrified at Jon, shaking nervously. The young northerner sighed as he raised his eyes towards the sky. Of course, he got the new kid.

"N-No, sir. The prisoners are still in their chambers, on the third level". Jon nodded to the guardsman, heading off towards the stairway behind the soldier. He made his way quickly yet calmly up to the third level. Spotting two man standing side by side near a double door at the end of the hall, he made his way towards them. That had to be where they were keeping lady Alleryon. The guards glared as he made his way towards them. Jon stared back unblinking. The two men seemed on edge as he stopped before them. One tightened his hand around his spear. Jon raised an eyebrow at the man, before turning to the other man.

"I was sent by Lord Jaeherys. He wants me to interrogate this prisoner and find out what she knows. We're looking for her son's weaknesses". For a few moments, the soldier nodded, before warily nodding his head. He stood aside, allowing Jon to enter lady Alleryon's chambers. Glancing around he took in the chambers they were keeping their prisoner in. the conditions seemed reasonable at least. She would be far from uncomfortable while she was in captivity, at least, he supposed. Ceryse Alleryon, who had been gazing out the window, turned to regard him. Noticing the guard uniform he was wearing, she glared at him.

"I suppose your 'king' sent you to intimidate me then?" she demanded, as her glare intensified. For a moment, Jon felt impressed by her resolve. He could see now where Daeron got his reckless courage from. Despite the fact that she was without a weapon, and, as such, completely at his mercy, she refused to kowtow to him. He gently raised a hand to calm her. Ceryse raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Did something I say amuse you, soldier?" he blinked for a moment, before answering.

"I'm sorry my lady, I just wasn't expecting such stubbornness from you. Although, I suppose it makes sense, from his grace's mother". She glared at him, storming forward to stand so that they were face-to-face.

"You think you can insult me? Call me lady and suggest I'm stubborn," she fell short blinking for a moment, staring at him. He smiled at the stunned look on her face. She continued, glare lessening, if only slightly, "what do you mean 'his grace's mother'? I'm not 'king' Aegon's mother". He smiled, bowing his head slightly before her. Once more, she raised a beautiful brow at his antics.

"Not Aegon, your grace, no. I'm a good friend of your son, King Daeron, he sent me here to retrieve something from the Dragon tower. He also asked me to pass along a message. He and Melissa want you to know they will have you freed as soon as possible. You will be reunited with your family, lady Alleryon". The blonde stared at him, before her face broke into a grin. He was taken off guard as she flew her arms around him in gratitude. After a few uncomfortable moments, he hugged her back, allowing her to cry tears of relief into his shoulder and chest. He smiled down at his friend's mother. Even a mother could show weakness now and again, it seemed. His smile disappeared as his thoughts turned to lady Stark and her treatment of him. Eventually the blonde pulled away, and glanced up at him. She let loose a watery grin before speaking once more.

"I see why you and my son are friends, both of you have intimacy issues. That fact notwithstanding, you must be a skilled fighter if you've lasted this long in a war while in his presence". Jon chuckled quietly at the discrete snub at his fried's insistence on getting himself – and those around him – into dangerous situations. The woman glanced at him, having rubbed the tears from her eyes.

"You said Daer needs you to retrieve something for him?! You must hurry! Anything that might help my sons and Daenerys win their war is more important than me. Now go, and make sure you are not caught". Jon nodded, as he made his way to the door. Hesitating for a moment, he turned back, pulling a dagger from his belt. He placed it gently in her hands and stepped back. She nodded her thanks, and turned back towards the window. He smiled realising he had been dismissed. Turning once more, Jon snow exited the room.

Aegon

The siege would be a short one. When the Lannisters had seized Raventree hall, they hadn't left enough men to hold the castle for more than a few months against a protracted siege. A real army could take it in less time. he had instructed his commanders to have the golden company set about turning the smallfolk of Dorne into such an army. Each Dornish soldier in his army had been trained to wield both a spear and bow; his men had made sure they would be able to siege a castle using those weapons. Each Dornishman's spear tip and arrow heads had been coated in poison, to match their viper-like tongues. They would make for an affective and deadly fighting force. He turned to his captain, instructing him to position the men around the walls, have trenches dug, and siege equipment prepared. The Tyroshi nodded, rushing off to convey his orders. The king turned to Jaeherys, who had been promised a seat upon his small council. The lord of Castamere cast his gaze over the walls of the fortress thoughtfully before nodding. He glanced at Aegon watching him.

"Your plan is a good one". With that he rode off, no doubt to speak with the soldiers of his own subordinate command. Aegon twisted in the saddle, riding off towards the command tent. Soon, they would taste combat, and he would experience firsthand the true horrors of war. Until then, he could still get some rest.

Melissa

Life with Edmure Tully had not been as difficult as she had imagined it to be. He allowed her to continue reading her books, and he respected her. Of course, she knew, there was every chance that respect would not be given so easily if her brother – his king – was not within the distance of a single call for help. Yet somehow, she doubted this was the case. Her opinion of Edmure Tully was that he was so desperate for approval, he would respect anyone who gave him the same. Yes, she thought to herself, her marriage need not be a lifetime sentence. Good partnerships had been founded on less than what she and the lord of Riverrun shared. Of course, Edmure's life had been made difficult by the attacks on his homeland by Aegon's forces, but he continued to keep on a brave face. In their private chambers, however, he allowed himself to vent. It was a testament to the friendship that had blossomed between them that he felt comfortable to speak out against her brother's decision to maintain his campaign in the west to her. Privately, she agreed with him. Starfyre hall was her home, and would always hold a special place in her heart, but they needed to move east eventually, if they hoped to defeat Aegon and Stannis. Daeron could not afford to allow their kinsman to ride unchecked across the lands of their bannermen. He needed to mount an offensive soon, else they lose whatever gains they had made with securing the loyalty of other houses. There were rumours Stannis was making overtures to the Arryns. If they threw their lot in with him, then that would make Stannis one more formidable foe to contend with. With Robb Stark and the other northern lords marching north to take their lands back from the Greyjoys, Daeron no longer had the numbers to contend with both Aegon _and_ Stannis on equal footing. Robb had marched north with eleven thousand men, leaving her brother with five-thousand men and the promise to return south in force once more once the Iron born had been dealt with.

What her husband did not know was that her brother and his uncle, who had assumed the position of hand for Daer and Dany, were making plans to return east and deal with the alleged Targaryen heir whilst his forces were divided across the Riverlands. They both knew there would never be such an opportunity to crush their enemy as this. The issue was they needed to move fast, but they also needed to consider the threat of invasion from the southern borders of the Westerlands. If the Martells were to send a second force north, or the Tyrells were to throw their lot in with Aegon, they would find themselves trapped between the Iron Islands, the Targaryen host in the Riverlands, and Dorne and the Reach. A precarious position for any king. Lucarion was not making Daeron and Tyrion's lives any easier than Edmure. He was loudly telling anyone who would listen that Robb Stark had taken his forces north with the Lannister fleet, and his Westerling life, and no intention of ever returning to fulfil his end of the bargain. His words were making the Alleryon and Lannister bannermen uneasy. Not just of the Starks, but of the rivermen as well. They could all feel it; a fight was brewing. It would be up to her little brother to give them n enemy to focus on other than each other. And he was running out of time. She prayed to whatever gods were listening that Jon returned from his errand in Starfyre Hall in once peace and soon, so that they might began their march on the Riverlands.

Despite the difficulties of campaign, her brother had found simple pleasures in other aspects of his life; perhaps it was who he had chosen as a bride, but she found that married life agreed with Daeron. Whenever he broke fast with her – when he found the time to tear himself away from strategy meets – there was a sort of glow about him. The first time she had seen it, she could have sworn it was divine in origins. Dany seemed more and more to share his joy. Melissa had known for some time that the other girl was in love with her brother; she had only needed to watch the pair together. She was sure she had known before either of them had themselves. The young queen had taken to wearing more and more comfortable gowns. She had often been seen seeking out Lady Catelyn before the older woman had departed with her son. Ghost had made it near impossible for anyone to get near her. Even she was not permitted, as she had learned when he had grabbed her gown by the leg, refusing to let go until she left Dany's vicinity. Only Daeron would the loyal dire wolf permit near her. She wondered if it were because her brother was a close personal friend of Ghost's master. Perhaps the dire wolf had taken to protecting Dany out of loyalty to his master's friendship with the royal couple. She couldn't think what else it could mean.

Lucarion stormed past her in the yard as she sat watching Edmure train with his men, reading her book. He glared at her as he strode over to her husband, whispering something in her ear. The acting lord of Riverrun glanced at her quickly before nodding to her brother, who made off once more, this time towards the stables. Daeron himself followed Lucarion down from the rock, glancing at her and rolling his eyes at their brother's antics. She stood to speak to him, but he shook his head, gesturing to her husband. She nodded, making her way over to the auburn-haired man, watching as Tyrion waddled his way down into the yard, covered from head to toe in armour. Dany followed him, covered in a loose-fitting gown of black and red. The younger woman made her way over to Daeron and his uncle.

She stopped across from her husband, staring up into his blue eyes. He seemed excited, yet apprehensive as he gazed back at her, although not really paying her any mind. "My lord", she spoke gently, causing him to jump slightly as he turned his attention to her fully, "what is it?" she asked, dreading the answer she had already come to herself. He sighed slightly as he gently clenched her hands in his own, smiling at her.

"We're going back on campaign. Daeron's learned that one of Aegon's splinter forces has marched on Raventree. There's another heading for the Twins. His concerned they want to knock out the Freys before moving on Seagard and Riverrun itself. Daeron and Tyrion are convinced attacking them now and killing Aegon in the battle is our best chance of eliminating him from the fight". By the look on his face, her husband didn't seem so sure.

"You disagree?" she asked him softly, causing him to gaze carefully into her lilac eyes for several moments before responding.

"It _is_ a sound strategy," he granted, "however, I'm concerned we don't have the men. If Aegon re-joins his host before we crush them at Raventree, we have no chance. We Should wait for the northerners to make the difference. No, my lady, I do not agree with this plan. Glory's all well and good, but we Tullys no that it won't keep you alive in the middle of a war". She glared at him, anger overflowing at his words. She felt the sudden urge to slap her lord husband across his cheek.

"You think Daeron's doing all of this for glory?" she demanded him, hissing harshly as she did so. She ignored the looks she was getting from Tyrion and her sister-by-law. "Daeron's doing this to keep our family safe. He never wanted this war. Lucarion and I convinced him to take it". Edmure stared at her in shock for a few moments. He lowered his gaze, staring at the ground. When he looked at her once more, it was with shame.

"Forgive me, My La – Melissa, you are right. Anyone who's spent more than an hour with Daeron knows he is no glory hound. Reckless certainly, but not stupid. Your brothers are good men, my love". He smiled sweetly at her, kissing her hand and cheek. After a moment, she wound her arms around his waist, careful not to catch on his armour. Pressing her head against his chest, she smiled back.

"I forgive you. I can't really understand the pressure you must be under, trying to keep your men alive. I'm sorry for snapping".

He shook his head. "You love your family, Mel. That's the most important thing to a Tully, you know".

He grinned at her, as she rolled her eyes at his antics, shaking her head and walking away. He let out a slight whistle behind her back, causing her to laugh once more at his immaturity. She turned around, calling back to him teasingly,

"Don't let my little brothers hear that, ser".

He winked at her.

Daeron

He smiled despite himself as he stepped out into the yard and spotted his sister watching her husband and other men of House Tully. They would need those skills sooner then they knew, he thought warily. He grinned at his sister as she spotted him walking down the stairs, and rolled his eyes at Lucarion's latest temper tantrums. His brother had been giving him grief over a number of issues; the decision to march on and then remain at Casterly Rock, the fact that he allowed the Starks to take their men and return north to deal with the Greyjoy threat. If something was not done soon, Daeron knew, the pair would come to blows. But Lucarion was not making things any easier on him. Tyrion had urged him to give his brother command of a host to deal with the army north near the twins and then march further north to aid the starks once the castle was secured against Aegon's attack. And so, Daeron had agreed to give his brother command of the Stark auxiliary left behind by Robb. The gesture had not sat well with his younger brother. He watched his sister sit on the bench as her husband fought and wondered if her marriage was as happy as his own; to be fair, as he had told her, neither he or Dany really considered the ceremony to be 'official' as such, but in their hearts, they were man and wife. His mother would just have to be content with a ceremony in King's Landing, and the fact he was happy. He made his way over to the stables, preparing to mount Orys, his proud black warhorse. Patting his friend's head, he smiled at the animal.

"Well," he murmured softly to the horse, patting his flank, "back into the fray."

The horse neighed, as if in agreement, and he smiled, slipping the saddle over his companion. An amused voice spoke from behind him.

"I'll never understand the bond you and Jaime have with those beasts of yours", Tyrion spoke from behind him, causing him to smirk slightly at his uncle, speaking bluntly in reply.

"That's because you're not a soldier, uncle". The imp let out a sardonic laugh.

"I may not be a soldier, but I'm quite the slayer in bed, if you catch my drift," the little man winked at his nephew, "if you catch my drift". The little man grinned, wagging his eyebrows at him as he did so. Daeron shook his head as he ran a hand through Orys' mane. A second voice sounded behind the pair.

"Are you really going to let this lecherous little pervert speak like that around your wife, dear?" Daenerys called out from behind them, as Daeron turned and walked over to her, wrapping his arm around the shoulders. Ghost padded over to the small group behind her, popping down beside the stallion. Daeron smiled at his friend's companion. For the first few days after Jon's departure, the dire wolf had been moping around the yard, making the Lannister soldiers uneasy. To the Tullys and Alleryons, who had spent more time around both Ghost and Grey wind, it had been a source of great amusement. It had caused an issue when a Lannister knight had lunged for the dire wolf, almost killing him. Daeron had made it quite plain to all the soldiers that such behaviour would in no way be tolerated. After that initial difficulty, the wolf had taken to spending as much time as possible around Dany, protecting her from anything. At first, it had been annoying, until he convinced ghost he could be trusted around his wife.

He smiled at the sight of the two, grin widening as Maekor swopped in landing in the rafters of the stables. The bird gazed at Orys' back for several moments before swooping down, landing on the saddle. Tyrion let out a chuckle at the sight, before turning back to Daeron and Daenerys. He smiled at the royal couple, causing Daeron to raise an eyebrow.

"A strange little family we make for, nephew". Daenerys fell silent at the declaration, before grinning down at the little man and leaning further into Daeron's grip. The imp smiled at the pair before deciding his usefulness in the current situation had expired. Muttering about checking with the men, he waddled off to give them privacy. Dany smiled up at him as he kissed her on the forehead. He frowned slightly at her.

"I still don't like the idea of you coming with us," he told her, "I'd feel safer if you were to stay at Riverrun". Dany shook her head emphatically, refusing to consider the idea. She wrapped her own arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss her lips softly. She smiled slightly as they parted, his head resting on her own forehead.

"You think I want you to ride off to war, Daer? Of course not, you fool, I want you to run off with me to some small beautiful Island so we can raise a family together. But that's not you, and it's not me either. So please don't ask me to watch my husband ride off, possibly to his death, and wait for a man who might never come back to return to me, Daeron Alleryon". He nodded slightly, taking in her opinion. He let out a slight sigh as he rested his cheek on her head. All this time, he'd been so worried about his men getting home to their families, and yet he'd never considered one important fact. He had a family as well, someone who would worry about him, mourn if he never came home. This woman was his family, and see needed to know he was safe, just as much as he needed to know she was. Her arms tightened around him, as she sighed quietly, taking in his scent. He kissed her gently on the lips once more.

"I love you," he whispered gently, causing her to smile at him.

"I love you too," she replied quietly, as she moved off slowly to saddle her own horse. He turned back to Orys, leaping up into the saddle as he rode off out into the yard. Turned to Edmure, instructing him to ride out the gates with the Tully vanguard. His brother by law smiled at the trust his house had been given, before taking off towards the east, clearly eager to get home. Daeron called out to Tyrion over the din of the courtyard.

"when you eventually get to Riverrun, I want you to help the blackfish organise the defences. If Oberyn Martell decides to try his hand at taking the castle, I want them prepared". The dwarf nodded at his nephew, saluting briefly as his king rode out with the rest of the army. So, Daeron thought bitterly to himself, back on the road to war.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** When reading this, the last chapter before the sequel, bear in mind that not all of these events a one after the other, and the time between events is fluid. Thanks for going this far with me guys!

13

Arya

She ran, as she had always ran; she had ran first with Yoren when John and father died. Then when they killed him and brought her to Harenhal. The brotherhood found her, she ran. Clegane found her and they ran _together._ Now at last here they were. Riverrun way just ahead. The hound said her mother was here. If he was right she would be with family and if he was wrong she'd find her grandfather. Either way; family. She'd heard all sorts of rumours on the road, not all good. People claimed Rhaegar's son was alive and in the country. Stannis had seized the capital and held her sister. At least, she thought to herself, he'd killed Joffrey and Cersei. Bethany, the cold girl she'd met at Winterfell had betrayed her family.

There were other rumours too. Apparently the Westerlands had been conquered. Her Uncle and Brothers had sworn fealty to Daer, who lay claim to his Targaeyen ancestors' throne. The two Dragon kings were set on a collision course. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Daeron was her friend, and she hated the idea of Jon and Robb fighting. Beside her the hound rapped her on the head to get her attention. She glanced around hastily. The castle of Riverrun loomed large over them. All around the island castle stretched a massive moat. A dozen guards bearing the Tully salmon were marching towards them. Clegane, as by habit, placed a hand on his sword hilt. Arya glared at him. He snorted at the look on her face.

"you think they'll be happy to see _me_ , girl?" he sneered down at her. She let out a groan.

"I don't know. But I do know they _definitely_ won't be if you _pull your sword on them!_ " he snarled at her, but took his hand away from the sword. Together, she and her ... Travelling companion ... Stepped forwards to meet the guards. As they did so, Arya glanced at Sandor worryingly for a second.

" _Please_ ", she offered a silent prayer to Syrio's god, " _not today_ ".

Robb

The March had been long and hard. They had been stopped several times, as they were now, by rain. He briefly wondered how his mother and Jeyne were, as well as Jon. He sighed; it would be a hell of a time explaining to old Frey why he could no longer marry his daughter. As hopeful as he was the other man would understand, his mother's warnings were fresh in his mind. All around the tent outside, he could hear the men laughing as they mingled and made merry. He felt a sting in his heart and a strange sudden desire to join them. He couldn't explain it but he felt as though it might be his last chance. With a sigh he stood up from the chair and moved his way past the table. As he pushed back his tent flap he tried to push such morbid thoughts from his mind. Wandering through the Stark camp he nodded to several soldiers who bowed as he walked past. He cast an eye over the festivities. There were dozens of barrels been cracked open, and drinking games to be had all round. He smiled to himself as he watched the men enjoy themselves. Of course, not all were taking part. There were several guards around the wet campsite keeping watch out for enemies. Off to the side, he heard his name bellowed out. Turning to the side he saw the great Job talking to Gregor Forrester and about a dozen soldiers.

"your grace", called Jon, waving with a drunken grin on his face, "come join us your grace!" Robb sighed good-naturedly and jogged his way over to the soldiers.

Robb staggered slowly back to his tent, desperately trying to stay on his feet. He held a hand up to his forehead, and let out a groan. Lord Umber had talked he and Lord Forrester into a drinking competition. Naturally the larger man had beat them both. He managed to get to the entrance of his tent. The guards rushed forward to assist. An arm slung over each of them, they led him towards his bed, and helped him sit down. He lay back and dismissed them, just as he began to snore softly.

Jon

He had made it to the base of the tower. Gazing up at the imposing structure above, he grit his teeth and drew a pair of daggers. Driving the blades into the stone, he slowly began the climb. Careful to find footing, he continued slowly moving his way up. The knives helped. He could use them to either pull himself up, or dig out a foothold between the bricks. It happened as he was about half way up the tower. His foot slipped from the wall. He desperately drove the daggers into the tower and pressed himself against the wall. Taking several deep breaths he closed his eyes. He slowly placed his foot back on the tower and continued to scale his way up. The rest of the trip to the top passed without any more excitement He carefully pulled himself up, smashing the window to climb through. He cast an eye around the room, which was clearly a study. There was a large dragonglass desk in the centre of the room covered in papers. Behind that a large comfortable looking seat and two large book cases on either side. In between the two inner most book cases was a beautiful site, hanging on the wall. The hilt was dragonbone with white leather bound around the top half. The cross guard was tapered with a stallion head on each side. The milky white blade was covered in crimson and Black swirls, each of which appeared to move along the edges. There could be no doubt. This was _Bright Flame, The Star of the west_ ; the Valyrian steel sword of house Skeleton.

He carefully moved around the desk and stepped slowly towards the sword. He reverently removed it from the wall, gazing along the blade as he did so. It was then he noticed something he hadn't previously. There was something written along the blade, in what language he was unsure. He suspected though that it might have been Valyrian: **Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys**. He turned the blade over and was stunned to see yet more glyphs. These were written smaller and closer together. He wasn't sure how but he instinctively knew they were some kind of instructions: **Nyke se Dawn. Isse se brōzi hen glaeson, gūrogon issa bē, cast issa qrīdrughagon**. Putting such thoughts aside for a moment, he retrieved the black leather scabbard lying beside the book case to the right. As he had guessed it fit the blade perfectly. He tied it off on his waist before turning finally to the desk. Pushing papers aside he searched for the journal. There were voices approaching, getting louder. At the bottom of the pile he found it. Fire and blood: a book of dragons. The small brown leather book was unassuming as it lay there. He hastily grabbed it, slipping it in the bag he'd brought with him. As he did so, the door was kicked in. A pair of guards with short swords and Shields stood before him. Without a word they charged. He drew Bright Flame without a thought. The first men brought his sword to bear from over his head, yet he was to slow. The Valyrian steel found his stomache. It seemed to sing at the taste of blood as he tore it from the dead man's corpse. The second, moving in shield first, was smarter. He lunged out with a stab. Bright Flame blocked the blade, turning it aside harmlessly. He attempted to a cut to disarm his opponent but his stroke found the ironwood shield.

The other man struck back, cutting his arm. Jon hissed as his blood sprayed from his arm. Gripping the sword tighter with both hands, he slung at the man's legs in a feint. His foe brought his bluff, lowering his blade to defend. The valyrian steel arced up, severing the man diagonally in half from his waist upwards. Moving through the room, he spotted a small dark red chest. With a shrug he grabbed it. On his way out an open piece of parchment caught his eye. He grabbed it reading quickly.

 _To all future members of House Alleryon_

 _My journey east was a success. I retrieved for our house a long sword of Valyrian make. However, in Asshai I encountered the shadow binders and priests of R'hollor. They told me many things. Terrible things. I have learned that the long night was no mere legend. It was real. All of it. Worse still they showed me the truth in the flames. The others have not been destroyed. They still exist yet, hidden in the frozen north. Fortunately they are still yet asleep, and may never wake. At least not for a long while._

 _They told me a prophecy of their people. They claim it may speak of one of my descendants. I have written it below. Pray you are not the one to see it come to fruition._

 _ **Let loose the dogs of war. Amidst ice and Fire, on the cold shores of Hard Home will all be decided. Yet twice first must the false dragon and the Stallion who rides with dragons meet on the field. Their struggle will decide the fate of all. At Hard Home will the Men of Westeros and the lost Children meet their ancient foe.**_

 _ **There, on the frozen fields will be fought the battle for the Dawn. Dragon fire will fill the sky, and the living and dead both will burn. Brother will save brother, two to live one to die . Friend slays friend as the sun falls beyond the horizon. There upon the eve of the long night, will meet two kings. One of cold and death, one of life and Fire. Their struggle will bring about the end, either lasting peace or a final devastating war. Thus shall the fate of man be decided.**_

 _Maegor Alleryon, Lord of Starfyre Hall and a broken man_

Of course Jon knew what Hard Home was. Something mysterious had happened there in the distant past. And every child had heard the stories of long night. Here was Lord Alleryon claiming it had happened, would happen again. And that the dragons would return. He needed to get this to the others. Turning he ran through the tower.

Randyll Tarly

"The boy offered you _what?!_ " lady Ileana asked, sounding shocked. He gazed at the other woman thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to the map of the kingdoms spread out between them. His gaze fell first on Storm's End, then Highharden. There was no need to mention _that_ offer, at least not yet. He returned his gaze to the shrewd queen of thorns. He smiled grimly at her.

"Storm's End and the storm lands my lady". She nodded thoughtfully and poured herself a glass of wine as she gazed into the dying fire. For several moments they were both silent. If he were talking to anyone else, Randyll would have thought them struck dumb or mute. Not lady Olenna though. No she was measuring her options. Eventually she spoke, still gazing at the fire.

"my son is happy to remain neutral. As far as _he_ is concerned, if no one can offer him a suitable marriage for Margaery, why should he support them. What can Daeron Alleryon give Mace Tyrell, Lord high oaf of Highgarden?" Tarly was not sure what to say. He had no idea what the Alleryon king would give in return for their services. Lady Tyrell shrugged and tipped her wine onto the fire, quenching it.

"You and Garlan will take twenty-five thousand men to meet this king. Take my granddaughter with you. She will negotiate for house Tyrell. If she is pleased with his offering, then you will remain with their army. If not return to the Reach". Randyll nodded as he turned to leave the room.

"And another thing. Mace will know none of this".

Sam

He had made it this far. The ship had landed at Seagard, and lord Jason had given him an escort to meet king Daeron. Beside him in his saddle bag, in a jar, lay the hand. It crawled around like a spider struggling to escape. He would not let it. He had a job to do, one he intended to see out to the end. He would put it in front of the king, make him understand what was coming. They stopped on the edge of a sea of tents. The captain gestured for him to climb off his horse. He did so gingerly. Glancing around he saw several banners he recognised from his reading. He had no time to admire them however. The soldiers hastily led him through the camp. They came to a tent larger then all the others. The men all around were beginning to pack away the camp. There was a tall man in black and crimson armour facing away from them. He was talking to a man in leathers who looked like a Stark, dressed all in black. His hard face was framed by dark hair. He was handing a box to the other man. The man with silver blonde hair falling down to his shoulders opened and quickly closed the box.

"Well done Jon. Take this inside the tent and give it to Dany. Don't let anyone else see what's in there". He removed an expensive looking long sword with an Ironwood hilt from his waist, and passed it to the Stark. In his hand was a black leather Scabbard. He turned in their direction and stopped short at the sight of their company.

"Captain. Who's this?"

Sam stepped forward nervously. "Samwell Tarly, Ser. Brother of the Night's Watch. I'm looking for Daeron Alleryon".

The other young man chuckled. "you found him".

"Could we speak? In your tent?"

"Of course. Come with me". Alleryon led him into the same tent 'Jon' had entered. There wasn't much in the way of furnishings. Just a large double bed, a table with seats around it and an armour rack. The king smiled fondly at the woman seated on the side of the bed and kissed her cheek. Sam patiently waited for the pair to finish. Daenerys, for who could this be but Daenerys Targaryen – glanced at him as she put aside the box Jon had given her.

"Who is this Daer?"

"Randyll Tarly's boy. He's come from the watch, seeking an audience". He turned back to Sam and sat at the chair at the head of the table. He gestured to the seat to his right, closest to Sam. He sat down in the offered chair, and reached carefully into his bag. Watching him the king sighed.

"I can't afford to give you any recruits, Sam. I'm in the middle of a war". He told him bluntly. Still digging around in the bag, Sam nodded. Daenerys moved to sit across from him. Sam nodded.

"I realise that your grace. I'm not here for recruits". He assured the royal couple.

"Why are you?" the woman asked.

Sam dropped the jar on the table as an answer. Inside the jar the hand wriggled and squirmed. Daeron stared at the thing in shock. Beside him the queen tightly gripped his hand. There was a gasp behind them from Jon Snow.

"What is that?"

It was Daeron who answered. "This Jon", he began as he picked up the jar, "Is a herald of our destruction". He turned to Sam.

"A weight?" Sam nodded.

"How many?"

"too many to count your grace".

He nodded. "I swear to you, once my war is done, I'm coming north".

Jon

Daeron and Tarly left the tent. He and Dany stared at one another, each horrified. The letter in his pocket suddenly felt ten times heavier. He stared at the now unmoving hand on the table. This is what Maegor Alleryon had been warned about. This was what was coming for them. The long night coming for them. The prophecy was unfurling before his eyes. He moved fearfully towards the chest he'd brought from the tower. Pulling back the lid he was met by three polished stones. He leaped back in horror. Can't glanced at him.

"are you OK?"

"Just thinking".

He heard her leave the tent. He gazed around the tent and fell into a chair. It all made terrifying sense now. He removed the letter from his pocket and laid it on the table. As he buried his head in his hands, Arms resting on the table, it all fell into place. Daeron was the stallion who rides with dragons. Aegon was the false dragon. Fate dictated they would battle twice. Daeron could not afford to lose. If he did, the watch would never receive the aid he had just promised Tarly. Then came Hard Home. The prophecy didn't say whether he had to live. Just that he'd fight a king of death. Who was the friend who would slay friend? Him, Daeron or someone else? Were he and Daer fated to fight? He sighed as he came to a decision. He's friends did not need to know of this. He grabbed the note and left the tent. Daeron had mounted Orys and was ready to move out. Tossing the prophecy into the nearest fire, he watched it burn away and made for his own horse.

They rode for what felt like days. The army was headed for Seagard, and the last known position of Aegon. Jon instinctively knew what that meant, and what was coming. The first of the two battles was coming. He'd need to keep an eye of Daer and make sure he was safe. His friend glanced at him, clearly concerned. Jon refused to meet his eye.

Jaeherys

Convincing the Freys had been easy. Walder would do his part, when the time came. All he had to do was settle in and wait.

Lucarion

His host had linked up with the Starks a few hours south of the Twins. Robb had been bogged down by the rains. In truth the weather had been beyond terrible lately. Not for the first time, Location cursed his brother's name. The blackfish had made for good company, but Stark was _dull._ He briefly wondered if this was how his father felt with Eddard. Fortunately, the journey would soon be done: they had reached the twins. There were a tense few moments as they waited to be allowed entry. Eventually once Stark confirmed his identity they apologised and let them in. Lucarion and the other nobles were brought into the castle and food and drinks were sent down to the men. Glancing around at the Frey men, something about them made him feel uneasy. Shrugging the feeling aside he moved on with the rest.

They moved into the Freys' hall. Stark was at the head of their group. As they arrived, Lord Walder dismissed his brood. The other weasels left the room. Catching his eye, Black Walder sneered nastily. Lucarion once more struggled to push down the feeling of unease that came over him. Frey gazed haughtily over them before speaking.

"Prince Lucarion and the king in the North. I had expected a wedding, _your grace_ ". The title sounded like something filthy to be swept up off of the floor the way he said it. Stark visibly bristled at the clear insult. He stepped forward menacingly, only to be seized by Umbar and the Blackfish. Frey threw back his head and laughed. He sneered at the three.

"Yes, hold back the king who lost the north", he turned to Lucarion and smiled sarcastically, "perhaps tell your brother to keep a closer eye on his bannermen". Lucarion privately agreed with the prickly old man. Frey let out another irritating laugh as Robb Stark stepped forwards once more to negotiate with the old weasel.

"Lord Walder," the young wolf began, speaking as calmly as possible. Lucarion was sure he detected an undercurrent of impatience however, "we have been allies for the duration of the war. Now the Iron Born have stolen my lands and I must pass through your castle to take the Moat. I would be eager to continue our alliance... "

Frey held up a hand. Stark fell silent, Frey glaring nastily at him. The tension in the room increased even further. The old man began to speak once more. His words were polite but his tone condescending and disrespectful.

"But your grace, we were sure you no longer desired an alliance with our house. After all, you married Queen Jeyne. We simply assumed House Frey's services would no longer be required by the king in the North or King Daeron". Robb Stark snarled at the old man's veiled insults as Lucarion pushed his way to the front beside the northern king. Frey glanced once more at him as he did so.

"My brother knew nothing of Stark's arrangement with you or his betrayal. This has nothing to do with him, and I will remind you who is your high king!"

"Yes Yes, I swore oaths to the Tully fools, and they swore more oaths to your brother. That doesn't change the fact that Robb Stark broke _his_ oath to me to Marry my daughter, for a firm pair of tits and a nice –"

Stark interrupted by clearing his throat. "Perhaps the prince and my lord would do me the honour of taking bread and salt with me?"

"Very well". Frey clicked his fingers and the Bread and Salt were brought forth.

Tyrion

He and lady Stark were awkwardly breaking fast when the guard came barging in. He ran towards the woman, kneeling down to whisper in her ear. She dropped her knife and leaped up from the table. He stared after her.

"What's going on?"

"Arya!"

Aegon

The defenders at Seagard refused to give in. The siege had been going on for hours and they still had yet to take the walls. From behind him he heard Ceryse Alleryon yell out. There were shouts from the back of the army. As he twisted in the saddle he spotted several of the men in the rear of the army falling. There were black feathered arrows embedded in their backs and knocks. Gazing out across the countryside, he spotted an army much greater in force then his own. At the head, flapping in the breeze: the Stallion of Alleryon. He spurred his horse forwards towards the prisoners. Opening the cage, he dragged one of Course's twins out into the army and onto the horse in front of him. He snapped at his men to turn and march on the new enemy.

The child squirmed in his arms. He brought a dagger to her throat and ordered her to be quiet. She continued to sob and cry out for her mother. Behind him he heard Ceryse screaming Rhaenyra's name and paid her no heed. He held up a hand and the men came to a halt. Riding out to the halfway point between the two forces, he waited. Alleryon rode out to meet him. His kinsmen stopped a few metres out, having came out alone. Aegon smiled. Alleryon did not return the gesture.

"give me my sister, Blackfyre," he snarled, hand on his blade. Aegon chuckled at the demand. He shook his head, and Daeron Alleryon's horse moved forward slightly. Aegon pulled his own mount back. Alleryon was clearly not in the mood for games. He gazed out over Aegon's force. After a moment, he smirked, "you look a little outnumbered, _your grace_. Why not climb off that horse and bend the knee?" Aegon shook his head once more.

"I thought we'd make a deal".

"what sort of deal?"

"This one", he slashed his knife across Rhaenyra Alleryon'S throat. She died instantly, falling from the saddle. Alleryon let out a howl, like a wild animal. Aegon smiled, "here's the deal. You manage to beat me, and I'll leave you the other two when I retreat". Having made his point he turned and rode off. The sound of a horse galloping after him made him throw back his head and howl with laughter. He signalled for the men. Arrows were knocked, and a volley rained down on the Pursuing Lord. He heard him turn around, and shout to his own men to charge. Aegon drew his sword and gave the order. He turned just in time to meet his kinsman's strike.

"nice sword. I'll take it when you're dead". His attacker gave no reply but another swing. He could see now how skilled Daeron truly was. He was fast, with plenty of strength and skill as well. Their horses circled one another like wild animals. All around their men fell upon one another. Yet none dared come near the fighting kings. Aegon lunged forward, although each of his strikes was blocked. Alleryon slung back. His fourth hit found the mark, only to be stopped by Argon's armour. The duel was so far evenly matched. Gazing around it was clear the same could not be said for the battle. His men were dying all around and beginning to give ground.

They fought back and forth for what felt like hours. Neither one it seemed could achieve dominance. He could not seem to find the means to land a blow, yet his opponent could not break through his armour. All around his men were beginning to route now. He bellowed at the top of his lungs for them to return. Some did, mostly golden company. The Martell men were quitting the field in droves. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder and glanced down. The Valyrian steel sword had just been wrenched from his side. Bleeding, exhausted and in pain, he gave the order to retreat. True to his word the prisoners remained.

Jon

A small contingent of men broke off to free the prisoners as the rest of the army surged forth. Daeron howled at his men to pursue the enemy. Jon spurred himself forth, blood on his armour and weapon. He had seen the two kings fighting; so many blows had clattered uselessly against the false dragon's armour that he was sure fate itself was against them. He had no idea if either of them had yet drawn blood when Aegon gave his men the order to fall back. They rode down the stragglers and hunted the enemy for hours. Eventually, Aegon retreated to Starfyre Hall itself, trapped between the army and the castle. The gates had been sealed, there were guards dead all along the walls. A woman's body could be seen in the moonlight hanging of the dragon tower. Fires burned in the courtyard. Aegon looked horrified. He grit his teeth and ordered a final charge against them. The two armies met once more.

With a creak the gates slung open hundreds of smallfolk poured through. Most were armed with pitchforks. Some had picked up weapons from the dead guards. They slammed into Aegon's rear. It soon became all to clear what had happened. There had been a revolt against Aegon's rule. The people had risen up.

Daeron

He found his target in the middle of the battle. Aegon was surrounded by smallfolk and Lannister soldiers. He waved them back and climbed off of Orys' back. He passed the horse to a Lannister knight. He glared at his enemy, lunging forth. His sword met Aegon's steel. He punched the other man in the head, causing him to stagger. A downward slash from Bright Flame almost split his opponent in two. Aegon's shoulder injury was slowing him down. He kicked him, knocking his legs out from underneath him. Aegon rolled away just as he drove his blade down for the kill. He tried to pull it free from the ground, but it wouldn't come free. Aegon charged, forcing him to let go of the hilt.

He dodged several swings. The men at his back let out a cheer. He had no time to see what was happening before Aegon was upon him. Using his dagger, he parried the blows. Rolling past Aegon he moved back towards bright flame. The knife was knocked from his hand. He let out several exhausted breaths, and felt cold steel in his stomach. He fell to his knee. Aegon sneered down at him. He let out a pained groan, and blinked back tears.

"I'm sorry. You left me no choice". He somehow found the strength to seize Bright Flame. Standing despite the pain, he grabbed Aegon's wounded shoulder and drove the blade into his heart. The other man collapsed, dying instantly.

"I'm sorry too". He collapsed.


	15. Important News (Sequel Announcement)

Important update: Sequel

Hello to all my loyal readers!

Since posting the last chapter of _Stallions of the west_ I have had a few requests to continue the story. This is an update to inform you all that the story will and has continued. I have posted the first chapter of the sequel, _Stallions Of The West: A battle for Dawn_. There are two reasons for this decision.

It felt like the story had reached a good place to break into the second narrative, and so I did

It ties in with my plans for the continuing saga of the Alleryons. I intend to show the ultimate fate of the House with the end of A battle for dawn, before moving on to create Prequels set during the times of the Dance, the Blackfyre Rebellions, ending with the War of the ninepenny kings, and finally Robert's Rebellion and the events surrounding it. It is my hope to use these prequels to expand on the mythos of house Alleryon. As long as I have a fanbase for the project, it will continue. Please feel free to give me story Ideas for further Stallion sequels or oneshots within universe.

Thank you all for your continued patience. Once I have finished the remaining three chapters of _Dawn_ they will be updated in one go.


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